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THOMAS    DAVIDSON 

1840-1900 


Thomas  Davidson 


,  MEMORIALS   OF 


THOMAS   DAVIDSON 


THE  WANDERING   SCHOLAR 


COLLECTED    AND    EDITED 
BY 

WILLIAM   KNIGHT 


BOSTON  AND  LONDON 
GINN  AND  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 

1907 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall 


Copyright,  1907 
By  WILLIAM  KNIGHT 


ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED 


GINN   &   COMPANY  •  PRO- 
PRIETORS .  BOSTON  •  U.S.A. 


TO 

THE  MANY  FRIENDS  OF 

THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

WHOM  HE  INFLUENCED  FOR  GOOD 

THESE  PAGES  ARE 

INSCRIBED 


PREFACE 

Since  the  following  pages  were  written  a  book  entitled 
The  Education  of  the  Wage- Earners,  a  Contribution  toward 
the  Solution  of  the  Educational  Problem  of  Democracy,  by 
Thomas  Davidson,  has  been  edited  by  his  student-friend, 
Professor  Charles  M.  Bakewell  of  Yale  University,  and  pub- 
lished by  Messrs.  Ginn  &  Company.  It  is  a  distinctive 
memorial  of  Davidson's  work,  especially  in  the  closing  years 
of  his  life ;  but  it  does  not  render  the  present  volume  inop- 
portune, nor  does  it  in  any  way  supersede  it.  Both  have  the 
same  end  in  view,  namely,  the  memorialization  of  the  life  and 
work  of  a  very  remarkable  man,  —  rare  at  any  time,  and  more 
especially  rare  as  the  years  advance,  —  a  unique  teacher  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  who  sowed  seed  which  is  even  now 
yielding  a  rich  harvest. 

It  may  be  well  to  state  in  a  paragraph  what  Mr.  Bakewell  has 
done  in  his  little  book  for  the  memory  of  our  common  friend. 
He  first  gives  a  comprehensive  introductory  sketch  of  David- 
son and  his  philosophy.  He  then  inserts  an  address  on  "The 
Task  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,"  given  by  Mr.  Davidson  be- 
fore the  Educational  Alliance  of  New  York  in  1898,  and  first 
published  in  the  International  Journal  of  Ethics  in  October, 
1 90 1.  His  third  chapter  contains  a  very  interesting  state- 
ment, also  by  Mr.  Davidson,  on  "The  Educational  Problem 
which  the  Nineteenth  Century  hands  over  to  the  Twentieth  "  ; 
while  the  fourth  contains  "The  History  of  the  Experiment." 
His  fifth  chapter  is,  however,  by  far  the  most  valuable  in  the 
volume.  It  is  entitled  "  The  Underlying  Spirit  (of  the  experi- 
ment) as  shown  by  the  Weekly  Letters  to  the  Class."    From 

vii 


viii  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

May,  1899,  to  August,  1900,  the  teacher  wrote  to  this  class, 
from  his  temporary  home  at  Hurricane  in  Essex  County^ 
some  thirty  letters,  in  which  he  discussed  many  a  problem 
in  the  philosophy  of  Ethics,  Sociology,  and  kindred  subjects 
with  almost  conversational  ease,  full  of  genuine  insight  and 
instructiveness.  They  are  remarkable  letters,  many  of  them 
composed  when  the  writer  was  a  great  sufferer. 

I  have  prepared  this  volume  on  lines  somewhat  parallel  to 
the  biographies  or  memoirs  of  others  with  whose  lives  it  has 
fallen  to  me  in  past  years  to  deal ;  namely,  Wordsworth,  Prin- 
cipal Shairp  of  St.  Andrews,  Professor  Nichol  of  Glasgow, 
and  Minto  of  Aberdeen,  as  well  as  other  nineteenth-century 
Scotsmen.  The  method  adopted  in  the  volumes  devoted  to 
these  men  is  even  more  necessary  in  the  case  of  this  wander- 
ing scholar  and  peripatetic  teacher.  I  think  it  is  impossible 
for  any  one  man  to  deal  adequately  with  a  character  so  com- 
plex, an  individuality  made  up  of  many  various  elements,  if 
he  merely  collects  estimates,  and  mingles  them  together  into 
an  olla-podrida  of  his  own.  I  have,  therefore,  given  a  num- 
ber of  estimates,  or  characterizations,  by  friends  from  opposite 
points  of  view  —  a  series  of  mental  photographs  or  appraisals 
of  the  man  —  and  have  allowed  these,  in  their  separateness, 
to  tell  the  story  of  his  life  and  work. 

As  I  have  had  occasion  to  remark  elsewhere,  critical  biog- 
raphies—  in  which  the  biographer  obtrudes  —  are  objection- 
able, while  those  in  which  he  dominates  are  unnecessary  ; 
and  so  in  this  volume  the  letters  of  the  author,  his  essays  and 
papers,  with  the  estimates  of  those  who  knew  him  in  various 
relationships  —  in  many  cases  curtailed,  and  their  superfluities 
removed  —  are  left  to  speak  for  themselves.  It  is  my  belief 
that  this  plan  will  be  more  useful  than  a  formal  biography 
would  be,  and  quite  as  interesting  to  those  who  read  it.  The 
reminiscences  of  various  friends,  and  estimates  taken  from 


PREFACE 


IX 


different  points  of  view,  often  give  a  much  more  vivid  idea  of 
a  man  and  his  life  work  than  a  continuous  narrative  of  events 
could  do ;  and,  although  there  may  be  a  few  repetitions  in 
these  sketches  as  they  refer  to  different  periods  and  occa- 
sions, a  substantial  unity  will  be  discernible  underneath  the 
variety  that  is  inevitable. 

Many  have  wondered  why  Thomas  Davidson  remained  so 
long  a  wanderer,  the  travelling  teacher-friend,  instead  of  set- 
tling down  within  university  precincts  as  the  honored  in- 
structor of  an  existing  school.  I  believe  that  in  this  he  followed 
the  guidance  of  an  inward  instinct,  which  directed  him  from 
his  earliest  years.  There  was  a  curiously  independent  ele- 
ment in  him,  which  found  its  symbol  in  the  national  Scot- 
tish thistle,  Nemo  me  impune  lacessit.  He  could  not  work 
in  the  prescribed  rule  or  routine  of  other  minds ;  and  so, 
perhaps,  he  could  never  have  submitted  to  academic  fetters 
which  were  not  of  his  own  creation.  With  superabundant 
energy  ever  welling  up  within  him,  he  preferred  to  be  not 
exactly  a  free  lance,  but  a  ubiquitous  inspirer  of  the  lives  of 
other  people  in  many  various  directions ;  and  so  he  became  a 
puzzle  alike  to  his  liberal  and  to  his  conservative  friends.  He 
was  not  more  of  a  mystery  to  those  he  occasionally  met  in 
his  travels  than  he  was  to  his  coadjutors  in  public  social  work, 
whom  he  could  not  bring  into  complete  sympathy  with  his 
own  ideals.  A  curious  story  is  told  of  his  once  being  at 
Domodossola  in  the  company  of  three  men,  a  Frenchman, 
a  German,  and  an  Italian,  and  of  his  speaking  all  three 
languages  so  fluently  and  easily  that  each  man  mistook  him 
for  a  fellow-countryman.  If  this  was  a  sign  of  wide  culture, 
it  did  not  imply  any  lack  of  concentration  in  thought.  David- 
son saw  the  best  things  in  all  the  systems  that  had  been 
evolved,  but  indiscriminate  mental  wandering  was  distasteful 
to  him. 


x  PREFACE 

In  a  brief  preface  I  can  say  little  more  of  the  man  whom 
I  had  long  ago  to  address  in  the  old  pathetic  words,  Frater 
ave,  atque  vale ;  it  is  enough  to  leave  this  memorial  volume 
as  it  now  stands  to  tell  its  own  tale  as  best  it  may.1 

W.  K. 

1  As  originally  written  this  book  contained  chapters  giving  a  full  analytic 
synopsis  of  Thomas  Davidson's  books  on  The  Parthenon  Frieze  and  Prole- 
gomena to  Tennyson's  "In  Memoriam"  his  letters  to  the  Breadwinners'  College 
in  New  York,  a  detailed  account  of  his  teaching  at  Glenmore,  and  extracts  from 
some  of  his  forgotten  contributions  to  newspapers  and  magazines.  In  deference 
to  the  opinion  of  my  publishers  that  it  was  inexpedient  "  to  include  abstracts 
of  works  which  were  in  print  and  might  be  consulted  by  those  interested,"  I 
have  agreed  to  suppress  the  greater  part  of  these  chapters,  although  my  judg- 
ment was  in  favor  of  their  appearance.  They  have  been  preserved,  however, 
in  their  original  form,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  send  them  to  any  readers  who  may 
wish  to  know  more  of  the  life  and  work  of  the  "Wandering  Scholar." — W.  K. 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

I.   Introductory i 

II.   The  Man:  a  Sketch  and  an  Estimate      ....      9 

III.  Formation  of  the  Fellowship  of  the  New  Life     16 

IV.  The  Occasion,  Principles,  Rules,  Creed,  and  Or- 

ganization of  the  New  Fellowship  as  drawn 

up  by  Thomas  Davidson 21 

V.    Development  of  the  Society 26 

VI.   Estimates  of  Davidson  by  Percival  Chubb   and 

Felix  Adler 29 

VII.   Letters  to  Havelock  Ellis 37 

VIII.   Reminiscences  by  Havelock  Ellis 44 

IX.   The  New  York  Branch  of  the  New  Fellowship    48 
X.   The   Summer  Schools  of  the  Culture  Sciences 

at  Farmington  and  Glenmore       55 

XI.    Recollections  of  Glenmore  by  Mary  Foster      .    63 
XII.   Charlotte    Daley's    Retrospects    of    Davidson's 

Teaching 74 

XIII.  Lectures  to  the  Breadwinners 80 

XIV.  Letters    from    Davidson    in    Reference    to    his 

Work  on  Medievalism 98 

XV.   Professor   William   James's    Reminiscences    and 

Estimate i°7 

XVI.   Recollections  by  Wyndham  R.  Dunstan      .     .     .120 
XVII.   The  Moral  Aspects  of  the  Economic  Question  130 

XVIII.    Letters  to  Morris  R.  Cohen 137 

XIX.   Rousseau,  and  Education  according  to  Nature    .  152 

XX.    Intellectual  Piety J  73 

XXI.   Faith  as  a  Faculty  of  the  Human  Mind    .     .     .197 

APPENDIX 215 


MEMORIALS   OF 

THOMAS    DAVIDSON 


CHAPTER  I 
INTRODUCTORY 

The  issue  of  this  memorial  volume  on  Thomas  Davidson, 
the  "wandering  scholar,"  teacher,  philanthropist,  and  friend, 
has  been  unfortunately  delayed  from  causes  beyond  my  power 
to  control.  When  I  undertook,  in  response  to  several  requests, 
to  collect  material  for  it,  I  had  already  written  a  short  notice 
of  him  for  a  volume  entitled  Some  Nineteenth-Century  Scots- 
men1; and  I  have  had  no  materials,  then  or  since,  voluntarily 
offered  to  me  from  any  quarter,  and  placed  at  my  disposal  for 
biographic  use.  Everything  included  in  the  book  as  it  now 
appears  had  to  be  collected  by  me  from  various  sources.  Some 
of  Davidson's  friends  and  pupils  have  been  most  kind  in  writ- 
ing down  their  reminiscences,  when  asked  to  assist.  Others 
who  promised  to  send  contributions  have  not  been  able  to  do 
so ;  although,  in  the  hope  of  receiving  them,  I  have  delayed 
the  issue  of  the  volume  as  long  as  possible. 

In  the  nature  of  the  case,  as  well  as  from  the  circumstance 
just  mentioned,  it  is  not  in  any  sense  a  biography.  There  are 
no  data  for  an  extended  memoir.  It  is  a  miscellany  of  facts, 
reminiscences,  letters,  estimates,  and  memoranda  of  various 
kinds,  all  casting  light  on  the  man  and  his  work;  with  appen- 
dices containing  some  of  his  lectures,  essays,  and  addresses. 
These,  however,  may  be  found  as  useful  to  posterity,  if  not 

1  Oliphant,  Anderson,  &  Ferrier,  1903. 

1 


2  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

so  interesting,  as  a  more  elaborate  memoir  would  be.  The 
incidents  in  Davidson's  career  were  few,  but  their  significance 
was  great ;  and  the  influence  of  what  he  did  survives,  and  is 
more  powerful  even  than  the  teaching  of  his  books. 

He  was  one  of  those  men  whose  magnetic  personality  had 
a  charm  which  it  is  difficult  to  define.  It  is  almost  a  common- 
place to  say  that  our  greatest,  as  well  as  our  most  strenuous 
and  subtle,  characters  are  those  whose  influence  it  is  hard  to 
describe,  and  impossible  to  reproduce  in  words.  Memory  may 
supply  the  look,  the  tone,  the  non  so  che  of  personality  to  the 
spirit  that  remembers  it ;  but  that  is  often  as  dull  and  color- 
less to  others  as  a  faded  photograph  which  has  been  preserved 
from  distant  years. 

The  story  of  Davidson's  life  is  the  record  of  a  very  remark- 
able influence.  He  educated  others  by  a  personality  in  which 
lay  the  slumbering  fire  of  genius,  a  volcanic  energy  which  was 
sometimes  for  long  periods  latent,  and  when  active  was  some- 
times slightly  erratic  in  its  mode  of  working.  Continuity,  or 
even  consistency,  was  not  possible  to  him  in  practical  affairs. 
He  chafed  under  constraint  ab  extra,  while  his  whole  being 
was  alive  and  working  out  ideals  ab  intra. 

Testimony  is  borne  from  every  quarter  to  the  range  of 
his  learning,  his  marvellous  memory,  his  knowledge  of  the 
ultimate  problems  of  human  thought,  his  mastery  of  many 
languages,  his  large  humanity  and  affability,  his  loyalty  as  a 
friend,  his  unceasing  toil  in  behalf  of  every  pupil  who  came 
within  the  circle  of  his  friendship,  his  hatred  of  superficiality 
and  still  more  of  all  pretence,  with  his  wonderful  gift  of  ap- 
praising merit,  or  goodness  of  character,  behind  the  ordinary 
shows  of  life.  These  things  are  well  known  to  those  who  came 
in  contact  with  him. 

And  yet,  as  the  great  always  are,  he  was  a  very  humble 
man.  He  had  no  vanity,  and  was  not  ambitious  of  fame  or 
recognition.  For  himself  he  "  coveted  earnestly  the  best 
gifts"   of  culture,  but  he  understood  "the  more  excellent 


INTRODUCTORY  3 

way"  of  "spending  and  being  spent"  for  others.  No  one 
knew  better  than  he  did  the  truth  embodied  in  the  motto, 
"  What  I  spent  I  had  ;  what  I  saved  I  lost ;  what  I  gave  I 
have."  And  yet  it  was  not  because  he  coveted  possession 
that  he  thus  spent  himself  in  efforts  for  those  whom  he  taught 
and  helped.  Some  men  have  founded  schools  of  disciples  who 
have  afterwards  adored  them,  and  the  wish  to  be  surrounded 
by  such  groups  has  been  the  mainspring  of  their  endeavor. 
It  was  not  so  with  Davidson ;  and  perhaps  it  was  because  he 
had  no  system  to  bequeath,  no  dogmas  which  he  wished  to 
see  introduced  into  a  school,  and  all-dominant  there,  that  he 
was  so  altruistic  in  his  endeavors.  It  is  not  as  a  doctrinaire 
philosopher  that  he  will  be  remembered  in  Europe  and  Amer- 
ica, but  as  the  helpful  comrade,  who  led  many  pupils  out  of 
the  shallows  of  tradition  and  the  back-water  eddies  of  conven- 
tional belief,  who  made  them  think  for  themselves,  reverently 
sifting  the  inheritances  they  had  received  from  others,  and 
carefully  cross-examining  every  theory  set  before  them  for 
adoption.  He  was  the  friend  who  helped  them  day  by  day 
to  get  quit  of  illusions,  not  one  who  vicariously  aided  them 
by  removing  rubbish  heaps  out  of  their  path,  but  a  guide 
who  taught  them  how  to  clear  their  own  way  ;  and,  having 
swept  aside  the  sand  of  mere  opinion,  to  build  upon  the  uni- 
versal reason  of  the  race  a  new  fabric  that  would  last  with 
them  and  for  them  securely. 

As  to  his  own  convictions,  —  so  far  as  I  can  speak  from 
personal  knowledge,  —  he  was,  as  wise  men  are,  both  gnostic 
and  agnostic  ;  gnostic  as  to  the  root  ideas  of  the  true,  the 
beautiful,  and  the  good  ;  agnostic  as  to  the  terra  incognita 
which  lies  behind  them,  and  the  ultimate  principle  of  things. 
In  this  he  was  essentially  Hebraic  and  profoundly  Christian. 
I  think  that  he  believed  the  real  and  the  ideal  to  be  one,  and 
that  they  are  known  together  in  perpetual  synthesis,  —  "  the 
real  apprehended  through  its  ideality,  and  the  ideal  grasped 
in  its  reality,"  as  I  once  put  it  to  him.    We  had  been  talking 


4  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

of  the  correlation,  and  the  cooperation,  of  analysis  and  syn- 
thesis ;  but  he  would  not  follow  me  in  the  further  proposition 
that  the  true,  the  beautiful,  and  the  good  —  as  the  several 
subsections  of  knowledge  —  may  be  also  known  together  or 
synthetically  in  their  germ,  while  a  subsequent  analysis  brings 
out  their  distinction  and  difference. 

My  own  correspondence  with  him  was  chiefly  on  the  subject 
of  the  book  I  asked  him  to  write  for  a  series  of  projected 
works  on  Philosophy  in  its  National  Developments.1  His  let- 
ters to  me  are  printed  in  this  volume ;  and  I  have  purposely 
placed  them  together  in  a  series  because  they  form  a  unity, 
and  in  combination  illustrate  his  character.  The  development 
of  his  mind  on  the  subject  he  undertook  to  deal  with  will  be 
apparent  in  these  letters.  At  first  he  thought  he  could  con- 
dense the  whole  story  of  mediaevalism  into  a  volume  of  the 
size  of  those  in  the  Philosophical  Classics  for  English  Readers, 
—  some  two  hundred  or  three  hundred  pages.  But,  as  he  pur- 
sued the  study  of  it  in  detail,  the  subject  grew  in  magnitude 
before  him  ;  and  even  after  I  gave  him  —  alone  amongst  the 
contributors  —  two  volumes  instead  of  one  for  his  work,  he 
found  it,  as  so  many  others  have  done,  too  vast  for  compression. 

The  Aberdeen  school  at  which  he  was  first  trained  in  clas- 
sics, and  his  subsequent  course  of  tuition  in  our  University  of 
the  North,  did  much  for  him,  and  he  loved  the  intellectual  dis- 
cipline he  had  gone  through  in  Scotland.  Even  in  his  later 
years  he  said  that  if  he  were  young  again  and  were  offered 
his  choice,  he  would  elect  to  go  through  it  all  once  more 
rather  than  experience  a  different  upbringing.  But  after  his 
undergraduate  work  was  over,  subsequent  life  in  the  old  coun- 
try did  not  satisfy  him  ;  and  the  instinct  of  the  wandering 
scholar  led  him  to  travel  from  country  to  country  in  Europe  (as 
will  be  seen  in  the  following  pages),  and  then  to  migrate  to 
America.  When  across  the  Atlantic  he  went  from  New  York 
to  Boston,  thence  to  Canada,  next  to  St.  Louis,  and  afterwards 

1  See  Some  Nineteenth-Century  Scotsmen,  page  354. 


INTRODUCTORY  5 

back  to  New  York.  The  fetters  of  university  life  in  America 
were  not  relished  by  him  any  more  than  those  in  England. 
He  preferred  the  freedom  of  the  peripatetic,  who,  calling  no 
man  master,  could  gather  round  him  disciples  as  he  went ;  and, 
having  sown  some  seed  of  influence,  pass  on  to  continue  the 
sowing  elsewhere.  The  raw  material  for  tuition  provided  at 
our  universities  —  young  men  and  women  who  were  preparing 
to  enter  the  various  professions,  and  were  therefore  to  a  large 
extent  tied  to  ancient  methods,  some  of  them  with  already 
definitely  formed  opinions,  and  who  sought  at  college  merely 
an  outfit  for  professional  success  —  was  not  the  material  on 
which  he  could  hope  to  work  successfully.  I  think  it  was  the 
quest  for  a  wider  and  more  genuine  sphere  of  influence  and  a 
field  for  more  profitable  work  (i.e.  one  in  which  he  could  do 
more  good)  that  led  him  to  wander  as  he  did ;  and  the  three 
stages  of  learning,  of  travel,  and  of  mastership,  —  Lehrjahre, 
Wanderjahre,  and  Meisterjahre,  —  which  have  been  consecu- 
tive in  the  experiences  of  so  many,  from  Plato  to  Descartes 
and  onwards,  were  combined  in  him  all  along.  He  was,  at  one 
and  the  same  time,  scholar,  wanderer,  and  teacher;  and  this 
continued  almost  from  first  to  last. 

As  learner  and  instructor,  and  as  a  high-souled  missionary  of 
education,  he  carried  out  four  notable  experiments,  and  achieved 
success  in  all  of  them.  They  were  the  founding  (1)  of  the  New 
Fellowship  in  London,  (2)  of  the  New  Fellowship  in  New  York, 
(3)  of  the  Glenmore  School  of  the  Culture-Sciences,  and  (4)  of 
the  New  York  settlement  for  Russian  Jews,  the  "Breadwinners' 
College."  He  was  not  completely  satisfied  with  any  of  them ; 
and,  having  started  one,  felt  it  his  duty  to  pass  on  and  organize 
another.  But  in  carrying  out  this  mission  he  had,  as  already 
said,  no  finished  system  to  unfold.  He  abjured  finality,  and 
rejected  dogmas  imposed  on  him,  both  ab  ante  and  ab  extra, 
until  they  were  reconstructed  anew  within  his  own  inner  con- 
sciousness. He  felt  that  he  was  "  conscript  and  consecrated  " 
to  be  a  reformer  of  abuses  of  the  intellect  and  the  heart.    An 


6  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

intense  philanthropic  passion  urged  him  onward  in  this  work ; 
and  intellectual  culture  pursued  selfishly,  or  in  isolation,  was 
abhorrent  to  him.  He  desired  to  enrich  his  fellow-creatures  by 
all  he  thought  and  felt  and  did.  To  a  certain  extent  a  social- 
ist, he  was  a  Fabian  of  a  very  cautious  type.  Exceedingly 
conservative  in  his  socialism,  he  held  that  the  end  of  human 
existence  was  the  freedom,  the  education,  and  the  perfection 
of  the  individual,  when  his  fetters  were  broken  and  all  tram- 
mels withdrawn. 

The  London  Fabian  Society,  an  offshoot  from  the  one  he 
founded,  did  not  continue  to  satisfy  him,  because  it  seemed  to 
tend  toward  an  external,  rather  than  an  inward,  ideal.  He 
preferred  his  "Fellowship  of  the  New  Life,"  because  its 
explicit  aim  was  the  development  of  the  individual  spirit,  the 
evolution  of  a  new  and  higher,  although  a  much  simpler  life. 
But  neither  of  these  socialistic  experiments  fully  corresponded 
to  his  ideal ;  and  the  progress  of  his  mind  and  character 
through  them  to  a  farther  step  in  the  western  world  is  one  of 
the  most  interesting  episodes  in  the  history  of  an  inquiring 
spirit,  and  an  ever-expanding  and  maturing  character. 

I  have  said  that  he  had  no  elaborated  system  to  offer  and 
to  teach ;  but  he  had  many  resting-places  in  his  forward 
journey.  One  of  them,  and  perhaps  the  most  important,  was 
the  philosophy  of  Rosmini,  in  which  pantheistic  monism  is 
met  by  an  individualism  proclaiming  the  inherent  and  intrinsic 
value  of  every  unit  in  the  race.  According  to  this  teaching 
each  one  of  us  is  an  impenetrable  unit,  cut  off  from  every 
other  by  the  boundaries  which  limit,  form,  and  determine  his 
individuality.  But  each  of  the  units  resembles  every  other 
one  :  all  have  points  of  contact,  and  can  disclose  their  indi- 
vidualities to  others.  Each  is  the  heir  of  all  the  ages,  not 
only  by  unconscious  inheritance,  but  because  the  gains  of  the 
past,  all  ancestral  possessions,  can  be  entered  into  a  fresh,  reap- 
propriated  by  culture,  and  lived  over  again  in  new  experience  ; 
while  that  experience,  after  receiving  its  own  enrichment  from 


INTRODUCTORY  7 

the  past,  is  destined  to  give  place  to  a  larger  and  fuller  one. 
Every  individual  yearns  for  new  development  and  fresh  en- 
vironments, but  what  it  is  possible  for  each  to  realize  is  met 
by  the  discernment  of  what  it  is  good  for  others  to  expe- 
rience. The  worth  of  particular  states,  however,  cannot  be 
known,  a  priori,  in  the  abstract.  It  can  only  be  known  through 
the  experiences  themselves.  Thus  Davidson's  philosophy  was 
both  individualistic  and  pluralistic.  When  experience  is  ana- 
lyzed we  find  a  unity  within  the  plurality  ;  and  in  that  unity 
is  found,  and  out  of  it  may  be  deduced,  a  theism  of  which  the 
evidence  is  clear  and  the  outcome  stable. 

The  psychological,  metaphysical,  and  ethical  teaching  of 
Thomas  Davidson  is  well  known  to  those  who  heard  him 
teach.  It  is  with  its  results  that  I  have  chiefly  to  do  in  this 
volume  ;  especially  with  the  outcome  of  his  ethical  teaching. 
Very  early  in  life  he  saw  that  "man's  chief  end"  (as  his 
Scottish  catechism  put  it)  was  the  attainment  of  knowledge, 
insight,  and  freedom,  —  the  realization  of  what  is  true,  and 
beautiful,  and  good ;  but  he  also  saw  that  this  had  to  be  con- 
joined with  the  realization  of  an  equally  supreme  good  or 
"chief  end"  by  others,  that  is  to  say,  by  the  community.  It 
was  this  double  or  twin  conviction,  more  than  anything  else, 
that  dominated  his  whole  life.  The  chief  good  for  each,  and 
the  summum  bonum  for  all,  were  not  theoretically  antagonistic ; 
and  they  did  not  practically  conflict.  But,  how  were  they  to 
be  realized  and  harmonized  ?  It  was  his  prolonged  pondering 
and  revolving  of  this  problem  that  led  him  to  his  "  Fellowship 
of  the  New  Life."  The  very  name  "fellowship,"  rather  than 
"society"  or  "organization,"  meant  a  great  deal.  It  carried 
its  small  band  of  devotees  back  to  the  Pythagorean,  the 
Socratic  or  Platonic,  and  the  Epicurean  brotherhoods.  Even 
the  manual  labor  called  for  from  each  member  was  significant. 
But  Davidson  soon  saw  that  he  could  not  realize  his  ideal  in 
England.  It  was  Utopian  to  his  British  contemporaries.  Hence 
he  sought  for  it  in  the  New  World,  "  the  unexhausted  West." 


8  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

As,  however,  his  aim  has  been  a  good  deal  misunderstood, 
it  is  desirable  again  to  state  that  the  "  New  Fellowship,"  the 
realization  of  which  he  sought  for,  was  based  not  upon  uni- 
formity of  opinion  or  belief,  not  on  mere  camaraderie,  or  sym- 
pathy in  pursuing  ends  which  are  not  ideals ;  but  on  the 
realization  of  the  highest  possible  life,  the  broadest  and  most 
varied  culture,  altruistic  in  every  sense  from  first  to  last.  To 
Thomas  Davidson  culture  was  not  a  selfish  pursuit  that  could 
be  followed  out  in  solitude.  It  was  only  attainable  in  a  com- 
munity established  and  knit  together  by  disinterested  social 
bonds,  the  varied  knowledge  sought  being  obtained  with  a 
view  to  the  elevation  and  betterment  of  society  around.  His 
aim  was  to  present  to  the  world  a  new  example  of  "  plain  liv- 
ing and  high  thinking"  by  the  courageous  pursuit  and  advo- 
cacy of  truth  when  freed  from  the  trammels  of  convention,  and 
by  the  realization  of  the  beautiful  in  Art  and  of  the  good  in 
Life.  If  a  parallel  to  this  may  be  found  in  earlier  efforts,  it  is 
to  be  sought,  not  in  the  phalanstery  schemes  of  the  eighteenth- 
century  economists,  but  in  the  pantisocracy  of  Samuel  Taylor 
Coleridge  and  his  friends,  and  their  projected  settlement  on 
the  banks  of  the  Susquehanna.  The  "  Fellowship  of  the  New 
Life,"  however,  was  wider  in  its  original  programme,  much 
fuller  and  richer  in  its  ideals,  although  not  more  realizable  in 
the  world  of  the  actual. 


CHAPTER  II1 

THE  MAN:  A  SKETCH  AND  AN  ESTIMATE 

Thomas  Davidson  was  born  in  1840  in  the  parish  of  Old 
Deer,  at  Drinies,  a  croft  situated  a  little  to  the  north  of  the 
coach  stables  of  Pitfour,  now  attached  to  the  farm  of  Toux. 
After  the  death  of  his  grandfather  the  family  removed  to  the 
village  of  Fetterangus,  about  a  mile  distant,  where  the  widowed 
mother  with  her  two  daughters  occupied  a  house.  His  mother, 
Mary  Warrender,  and  her  sister  Margaret  toiled  industriously 
to  support  their  aged  mother  and  themselves,  with  a  laudable 
pride,  now  less  common,  in  order  to  be  independent  of  public 
charity  or  parochial  aid.  In  fine  weather  Mary  wrought  at 
outdoor  labor,  chiefly  on  the  home  farm  of  Pitfour,  assisting 
in  spring  by  gathering  weeds,  hoeing  turnips,  shearing  sheep, 
at  the  latter  of  which  she  was  an  adept,  being  able  to  shear 
forty  to  fifty  a  day.  In  harvest  she  gathered  the  corn  cut  by 
a  reaper  with  his  scythe,  and  in  winter  was  often  employed 
lifting  turnips  for  the  cattle,  or  other  homely  agricultural 
work.  On  bad  days  she  plied  her  needle  or  knitting  pins  in 
untiring  assiduity,  and  always  managed  to  keep  the  household 
clean  and  tidy. 

When  a  boy  Thomas  Davidson  was  of  a  blonde  complexion, 
with  hair  inclining  to  yellow,  hazel  eyes,  and  an  open  smiling 
face.  He  was  a  great  reader,  and  being  of  a  lively  and  happy 
disposition,  as  well  as  docile,  he  was  a  general  favorite  with 
young  and  old.  His  mother  was  desirous  that  her  two  boys, 
—  Thomas,  and  another  younger  by  two  years,  who  after- 
wards became  a  well-known  man,  John  Morrison  Davidson, 

1  Part  of  this  chapter  was  contributed  by  me  to  the  volume  entitled  Some 
Nineteenth-Century  Scotsmen. 

9 


IO  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

barrister  at  law,  political  and  social  journalist,  —  should  re- 
ceive a  good  education,  and  be  brought  up  to  be  pious  and 
reverent. 

The  first  school  that  Thomas  attended  was  the  girls'  school 
in  the  village  of  Fetterangus,  taught  by  Elizabeth  Grant, 
under  whom  the  boy  made  rapid  progress.  When  about  ten 
years  of  age  he  was  sent  to  the  parish  school  of  Old  Deer, 
then  presided  over  by  Mr.  Robert  Wilson,  who  soon  saw  that 
there  was  the  making  of  a  scholar  in  the  lad.1  The  number  of 
pupils  who  attended  the  parish  schools  of  those  days  varied 
considerably  in  summer  and  in  winter.  Whilst  the  summer 
attendance  at  the  Old  Deer  school  was  about  eighty,  in  winter 
there  were  from  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  to  one  hundred 
and  thirty  pupils  on  the  roll.  As  one  man  single  handed  was 
unable  to  do  anything  like  justice  to  such  a  number  —  espe- 
cially if  any  were  learning  the  higher  branches  —  he  was 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  a  practice  commonly  adopted  by 
parish  schoolmasters  in  those  days ;  namely,  the  employment  of 
monitors  to  assist  in  teaching  the  junior  classes  for  a  part  of 
the  day.  Young  Davidson  was  thus  employed,  and  from  his 
knowledge  and  good  humor  he  soon  became  a  favorite  alike 
with  pupils  and  teacher. 

As  time  went  on  and  the  lad  advanced  in  learning,  more 
time  was  needed  for  his  school  work.  The  master  then  took 
him  to  board  in  his  house,  and  helped  him  in  his  studies  for 
a  couple  of  hours  each  evening  in  payment  for  his  teaching 
work  through  the  day.  Young  Davidson  was  exceedingly 
fortunate  in  his  landlady,  Mrs.  Wilson,  a  person  of  unobtru- 
sive piety,  common  sense,  and  kindliness  of  heart,  who  treated 
him  in  all  respects  as  one  of  her  sons.  While  the  master 
taught  him  Latin,  Greek,  and  mathematics,  his  wife  initiated 
him  in  French,  so  that  he  was  soon  able  to  read  that  lan- 
guage with  ease. 

1  Mr.  Wilson  still  lives  and  flourishes,  and  it  is  from  him  that  I  have 
received  these  facts  as  to  Davidson's  boyhood. 


THE  MAN  :  A  SKETCH  AND  AN  ESTIMATE  1 1 

At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  left  Deer  School  (October,  1856) 
to  attend  the  Bursary  Competition  at  King's  College,  Aber- 
deen, and  came  out  sixth  in  the  list  of  honors,  gaining  a 
scholarship  of  fifteen  pounds  a  year  for  foui  years.  At  the 
end  of  his  first  session  he  took  the  second  prize  in  Greek, 
and  carried  off  the  Simpson  Greek  prize  of  seventy  pounds 
at  the  close  of  his  curriculum.  In  his  second  year  he  took 
the  first  prize  in  senior  Greek,  and  Principal  Geddes,  then 
professor  of  Greek,  spoke  of  him  one  day  in  his  class  as 
the  best  linguist  he  had  ever  taught.  In  his  fourth  year  he 
was  second  in  senior  humanity,  and  fourth  in  logic  and  in 
moral  philosophy.  Toward  the  end  of  his  college  course  he 
became  acquainted  with  a  youth,  James  Macdonell,  at  that 
time  a  young  exciseman  at  Old  Deer,  afterwards  a  brilliant 
literary  man.  The  two  friends,  Davidson  and  Macdonell,  exer- 
cised a  strong  mutual  influence,  to  the  intellectual  benefit 
of  both. 

Mr.  George  King  writes  to  me : 

"  I  saw  much  of  Thomas  Davidson  while  I  was  a  student 
of  medicine,  and  he  rector  of  the  old  Aberdeen  grammar 
school.  We  were  not  fellow-students.  He  was  my  junior  in 
years,  though  senior  in  the  university.  He  graduated  in  arts 
at  King's  College  while  I  was  still  a  student  of  medicine  at 
Marishall  College.  I  first  got  to  know  him  through  a  man 
named  Webster,  a  brilliant  but  flighty  youth,  who  was  not  a 
university  student  but  a  great  reader,  and  a  wonderfully  subtle 
and  appreciative  critic,  especially  of  poetry.  Davidson  used 
to  give  simple  suppers  (the  fare  being  coffee,  bread,  and 
butter)  in  his  lodgings  in  Don  Street,  old  Aberdeen,  on  Sun- 
day evenings  after  church.  The  men  who  attended  these 
meetings  were  John  Macdonell  (now  Sir  John,  a  master  in 
chancery),  and  occasionally  his  brother  James  (subsequently 
on  the  staff  of  the  Daily  Telegraph,  and  then  the  Paris  corre- 
spondent of  the  Times),  the  aforesaid  William  Webster,  Wil- 
liam Wallace  (brother  of  Robert  Wallace  the   Presbyterian 


12  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

minister,  professor,  journalist,  and  member  of  Parliament), 
Davidson's  younger  brother  John,  and  myself.  We  were  all 
regular  attendants  at  the  evening  service  of  the  Reverend 
George  Mee,  then  a  Baptist  preacher  in  Aberdeen,  but  a 
native  of  Wales.  Mee  was  a  man  of  high  attainments,  and 
many  of  his  sermons  were  brilliant  literary  performances.  The 
conversation  at  these  delightful  suppers  at  first  usually  turned 
on  the  sermon  we  had  all  listened  to,  but  afterwards  it  was 
likely  to  wander  into  discussion  of  the  books  and  political 
events  of  the  day,  chiefly  the  former.  One  book  that  gave  occa- 
sion for  much  talk  was  Gervinus's  Lectures  on  Shakespeare. 
Another  was  Max  Midler's  Chips  from  a  German  Workshop. 
Carlyle  and  Tennyson  afforded  material  for  much  animated 
talk.  Davidson  admired  Carlyle  less  than  the  others  did.  In 
appreciating  the  more  subtle  beauties  and  suggestions  of 
both  Tennyson  and  Carlyle  he  fell  short  of  Webster  and 
James  Macdonell,  and  they  excelled  him  also  in  facility  of 
expression.  But  Davidson  surpassed  us  all  most  notably  in 
scholarship.  He  was  an  admirable  classic,  and  his  knowledge 
of  German  was  considerable.  He  had  read  more  than  any  of 
us;  although  he  had  no  knowledge  of,  or  sympathy  with, 
biological  science. 

His  was  a  bright,  kindly,  and  most  lovable  spirit ;  and  I 
have  often  deeply  regretted  having  got  out  of  touch  with  my 
old  friend.  I  went  to  India  in  1866,  and  from  that  time  our 
intercourse  practically  ceased,  my  exile  abroad  lasting  for 
thirty-two  years." 

Davidson  graduated  at  the  University  of  Aberdeen  in 
i860,  carrying  off,  as  stated,  the  Simpson  Greek  prize.  That 
same  year,  after  three  months'  absence,  —  when  he  taught 
in  a  boys'  school  at  Oundle,  Northamptonshire, — he  went 
back  to  Aberdeen  as  rector  of  the  old-town  grammar-school, 
and  session  clerk  of  Old  Machar  parish.  These  posts  (or 
rather  this  post,  for  they  were  joined  together)  he  held  for 


THE  MAN  :  A  SKETCH  AND  AN  ESTIMATE         1 3 

about  three  years.  The  school  did  not  flourish  under  him, 
and  he  disliked  the  work  of  registering  births,  deaths,  and 
marriages.  He  therefore  resigned  in  August,  1863,  "  in  con- 
sequence," he  said,  "of  having  received  a  situation  requiring 
my  immediate  presence  in  England."  This  was  at  Tunbridge 
Wells,  where  he  taught;  but  nothing  that  is  authentic  can 
now  be  gathered  of  these  days. 

It  was  virtually  a  farewell  to  Aberdeen,  although  he  revis- 
ited the  Granite  City  two  years  later,  in  1865,  with  Dr. 
Theodore  Benn ;  again  in  1870,  and  finally  in  1882. 

After  resigning  the  Aberdeen  grammar  school,  and  finding 
that  he  could  do  no  better  at  Tunbridge  Wells,  Davidson  went 
to  Canada.  He  taught  at  Toronto,  went  thence  to  St.  Louis 
(U.S.A.),  and  afterwards  to  Boston,  where  he  met  Long- 
fellow. Through  Longfellow's  influence  he  was  appointed  to 
an  examinership  at  Harvard  University.  He  spent  a  year  in 
Greece,  chiefly  at  Athens,  where  he  met  Dr.  Schliemann,  the 
topographer  and  German  explorer,  from  whom  he  received  a 
bit  of  ancient  ware  found  by  the  excavator  in  Agamemnon's 
tomb  at  Mycenae,  which  he  facetiously  called  Clytemnestra's 
teapot.  At  Rome  he  was  introduced  to  his  Holiness  the  Pope, 
and  had  an  hour's  conversation  with  him  in  Latin  in  the 
Vatican  garden,  an  honor  rarely  granted  to  any  except  inti- 
mate friends.  He  also  spent  a  year  in  the  north  of  Italy, 
while  writing  The  Philosophical  System  of  Antonio  Rosmini- 
Serbati. 

Davidson  has  been  written  of  by  one  who  knew  him  well 1 
as  within  the  circle  of  the  twelve  most  learned  men  in  the 
world.  His  learning  was  encyclopedic,  and  his  culture  almost 
universal.  A  great  linguist,  he  had  a  knowledge  of  Philosophy 
in  all  its  branches  that  was  amazing.  He  was  one  of  the 
distinguished  students  of  the  subject  whom  the  University 
of  Aberdeen  sent  out  during  the  last  quarter  of  the  nine- 
teenth century ;  but  he  was  so  humble  and  altruistic  that  very 

1  William  Clarke  in  The  Spectator. 


H 


THOMAS  DAVIDSON 


few  of  his  friends  and  acquaintances  knew  what  treasures 
were  stored  within  his  brain  and  heart.  More  than  any  of 
the  nineteenth-century  thinkers  known  to  fame,  he  lived  and 
toiled  for  other  people,  and  from  first  to  last  had  no  thought 
of  himself.  His  modesty  and  generosity  were  monumental 
features  of  an  outstanding  personality.  It  might  have  been 
thought  that  after  finishing  his  undergraduate  career  he  would 
pursue  the  vocation  of  a  university  teacher  of  Philosophy,  but 
the  paths  available  to  him  were  few  and  crowded.  No  vacancy 
occurred  which  tempted  him  to  become  a  candidate  for  a 
Scottish  university  chair. 

Besides,  in  these  years  he  was  rejoicing  in  his  newly  found 
freedom  as  a  teacher  ;  and  he  was,  from  first  to  last,  a  peri- 
patetic, an  intellectual  free-lance,  stimulating  many  minds  in 
many  lands,  while  waiting  for  the  possibilities  of  future  and 
larger  work.  He  deeply  loved  and  profoundly  honored  the 
mediaeval  universities  of  Europe, — those  cradles  and  nurseries 
of  learning  founded  in  the  so-called  dark  ages,  —  but  he  had 
little  sympathy  with  a  belated  mediaevalism,  stationary,  crys- 
tallized, and  dominating  our  western  ideals  of  progress.  He 
thought  that  the  students  of  some  of  our  universities,  no  less 
than .  these  institutions  themselves,  were  occasionally  indiffer- 
ent to  new  light  and  progressive  leading  ;  and  so  he  became 
a  wanderer,  like  many  of  the  ancient  scholars,  travelling  from 
country  to  country  in  Europe.  His  modern  instincts,  how- 
ever, drew  him  chiefly  to  America.  It  was  his  intellectual 
and  social  ambition  to  find  a  set  of  men  and  women  who 
could  be  bound  together  in  the  freemasonry  of  a  common 
thirst  for  that  knowledge  which  leads  to  useful  work  and 
fruitful  life.  And  it  must  be  admitted,  when  all  the  errant 
elements  in  his  career  are  eliminated,  that  he  succeeded  in 
inaugurating  a  "  new  fellowship  "  of  the  true,  the  beautiful, 
and  the  good. 

Like  Socrates,  he  never  cared  about  rewards  for  instruc- 
tion.   Also,   like  Socrates,  he  had  "  many  scholars,  but  no 


THE  MAN :  A  SKETCH  AND  AN  ESTIMATE         1 5 

school"  with  entrance  examinations,  and  well-fenced  tradi- 
tional avenues  to  success.  His  was  an  educative  rather  than 
an  academic  ideal.  As  an  intellectual  missionary,  his  aim  was 
to  get  at  the  truth  of  things,  with  a  view  to  the  regeneration 
of  society.  He  wished  the  elimination  of  error  to  lead  to,  and 
insure,  the  eradication  of  evil  from  human  life.  His  unique 
advocacy  of  the  philosophy  of  Religion,  his  defence  of  dual- 
ism against  the  monistic  system  of  Spinoza,  his  glorifica- 
tion of  individualism  —  dualistic  yet  socialistic —  were  notable 
amongst  other  efforts  of  his  countrymen.  But,  as  already  said, 
he  was  a  born  wanderer.  You  met  him,  talked  with  him, 
were  inspired  by  him  ;  and  next  day  you  found  that  he  had 
fled !  He  was  like  Browning's  Waring,  or  the  "  one  true 
poet  whom  he  knew  " ;  also  like  Matthew  Arnold's  scholar- 
gipsy.  He  felt,  as  very  few  have  ever  done,  that  he  was 
matriculated  as  a  continuous  student  in  the  great  peripatetic 
university  of  the  world.  Taking  up  philosophy  after  philoso- 
phy, although  he  did  not  indorse  any,  he  never  dropped  one. 
He  assimilated  the  teaching  of  each  and  passed  on  ;  but,  above 
all  things,  he  wished  to  make  his  speculative  knowledge  fruit- 
ful for  subsequent  work,  and  a  stimulus  to  good  fellowship 
and  camaraderie.  The  very  last  to  think  himself  an  "angel 
of  light,"  he  was  —  without  quite  knowing  it  —  an  instinc- 
tively inspiring  personality  in  every  circle  into  which  he 
came  ;  and  he  has  left  the  memory  of  a  mediae valist  panoplied 
in  the  guise  of  a  nineteenth-century  crusader.  He  lived  to 
revivify  some  of  the  ideals  of  the  Middle  Age.  An  intellectual 
cosmopolite,  as  well  as  a  teacher  of  those  ethical  truths  to 
which  our  modern  world  has  attained,  and  caring  nothing 
for  what  is  ordinarily  considered  success,  he  went  on  his  way 
rejoicing  —  if  possible  to  conquer  —  but  careless  whether  he 
succeeded  or  failed,  if  only  he  taught. 


CHAPTER  III 

FORMATION  OF   THE   FELLOWSHIP  OF  THE 

NEW  LIFE 

It  may  perhaps  be  said  without  exaggeration  that  at  the 
meetings  held  in  Thomas  Davidson's  rooms  at  Chelsea  in 
1 881-1883  we  find  the  fons  et  origo  of  the  later  nineteenth- 
century  ethical  socialism  of  England.  He  was  undoubtedly 
its  pioneer,  and  for  a  time  its  center.  He  had  returned  from 
Italy,  full  of  interest  in  the  philosophy  of  Rosmini ;  but  the 
formation  of  a  small  society  of  like-minded  persons  for  the 
reorganizition  of  individual  life,  and  thereby  the  gradual  uplift- 
ing of  society  to  higher  levels,  was  a  much  more  intense  desire 
with  him  than  the  prosecution  of  speculative  study.  He 
gathered  round  him  more  than  a  dozen  sympathizers  in  these 
Chelsea  rooms,  where  they  held  meetings  for  the  discussion 
of  problems  and  the  realization  of  their  aims ;  but,  as  time 
went  on,  inevitable  differences  arose  within  the  group.  There 
was  a  political  section,  and  another  that  was  more  purely 
ethical.  One  of  Davidson's  aims  had  been  to  carry  out  the 
ideal  of  the  "Institute  of  Charity."  The  political  section  — 
influenced  by  Karl  Marx,  and  the  social  democratic  federa- 
tion —  broke  away  from  this,  and  ultimately  formed  a  new 
organization  which  they  called  "  The  Fabian  Society." 

Mr.  Maurice  Adams  writes  an  interesting  letter  to  me  from 
Purley,  Surrey,  giving  particulars  as  to  the  initiation  of  the  Fel- 
lowship of  the  New  Life,  from  which  I  extract  the  following : 

"  In  the  September  of  1882,  Mr.  Davidson,  being  in  London, 
gathered  together  a  number  of  people  interested  in  religious 
thought,  ethical  propaganda,  and  social  reform,  among  whom 

16 


FELLOWSHIP  OF  THE  NEW  LIFE  17 

I  may  mention  the  names  of  Messrs.  Frank  Podmore,  Edward 
R.  Pease,  Havelock  Ellis,  Percival  Chubb,  Dr.  Burns  Gibson, 
H.  Champion,  the  late  William  Clarke,  Hubert  Bland,  the 
Reverend  G.  W.  Allen,  and  W.  I.  Jupp,  Miss  Caroline  Had- 
den,  Miss  Dale  Owen,  and  Mrs.  Hinton.  After  many  meet- 
ings he  proposed  the  formation  of  a  society  for  the  cultivation 
of  character,  a  complete  education,  and  social  regeneration. 

The  inclosed x  draft  of  principles,  rules,  and  regulations, 
which  he  drew  up  in  November  for  the  guidance  of  the  meet- 
ings in  his  absence,  will  give  you  a  good  idea  of  the  objects  he 
had  in  view. 

The  meetings  held  in  Mr.  Pease's  rooms  in  Osnaburgh 
Street  and  elsewhere  were  rather  indefinite  in  character,  till 
Dr.  Burns  Gibson  proposed  the  inclosed  resolutions. 

This  led  to  a  breach  in  the  society,  as  you  will  see  from 
Mr.  Podmore's  letter  to  Mr.  Chubb,  and  the  resolutions  which 
he  drew  up  forming  the  '  Fabian  Society.' 

The  nine  supporters  of  Dr.  Burns  Gibson's  resolutions 
formed  the  nucleus  of  the  Fellowship,  which  gradually  grew 
in  numbers. 

The  first  manifesto  was  entitled  'Vita  Nuova.'  I  inclose 
a  copy,  and  also  one  of  the  enlarged  manifestoes,  a  printed 
letter  from  Thomas  Davidson  (who  was  then  in  New  York), 
with  the  manifesto  and  list  of  lectures  of  the  New  York  Fel- 
lowship. The  English  Fellowship  published  a  quarterly 
journal  entitled  Seedtime,  which  (as  you  will  see  from  the 
final  number)  lived  for  eight  years. 

Thomas  Davidson  was  one  of  the  most  interesting  men  I 
ever  knew.  Intellectually  alive  to  the  finger-tips,  he  had  a 
fervid  nature,  and  habitually  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  elevated 
emotion.  Nor  was  he,  like  so  many  intellectual  men,  lacking 
in  will-power.  On  the  contrary,  his  strong,  earnest,  and  self- 
confident  nature  made  him  occasionally  somewhat  dogmatic, 
overbearing,  and  intolerant  of  opposition. 

1  See  page  21. 


1 8  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

In  the  early  days  of  the  Fellowship  the  members  rather 
feared  being  so  dominated  by  him  as  to  have  their  own  per- 
sonalities dwarfed.  In  consequence,  they  vigorously  asserted 
their  own  views ;  and  at  length,  as  you  will  gather  from  his 
letter,  Davidson  felt  that  the  English  Fellowship  was  not  quite 
what  he  had  hoped  for. 

He  was  so  thoroughly  individualistic  that,  in  spite  of  his 
sympathy  with  the  poor,  and  his  burning  desire  for  justice,  he 
could  never  sympathize  with  the  socialistic  views  of  many  of 
the  English  members,  cherishing  the  idea  that  it  was  possible 
to  remove  social  evils  by  individual  remedies  alone,  or,  at 
most,  by  voluntary  cooperation. 

He  contended  boldly  for  the  necessity  of  a  philosophic 
basis  for  religion,  ethics,  and  social  reform  ;  but  his  philosophy 
was  also  individualistic  and  pluralistic,  a  kind  of  monadology. 
He  was  always  full  of  ideas,  and  stimulating  to  the  highest 
degree  intellectually  and  morally. 

Above  all  he  was  sincere  and  enthusiastic,  hating  compro- 
mises and  the  interpretation  of  creeds  and  formulas  in  a  non- 
natural  sense.  '  Intellectual  honesty  '  was  his  watchword,  and 
what  he  had  perhaps  most  at  heart." 

Mr.  Podmore's  letter  to  Mr.  Chubb,  referred  to  by 
Mr.  Adams,  was  as  follows  : 

"December  16,  1883. 

Some  of  us,  after  talking  the  matter  over,  find  that  we 
cannot  subscribe  to  the  resolution  moved  by  Dr.  Gibson.  At 
the  same  time  we  wish  to  have  a  society,  only  on  more  gen- 
eral lines.  We  are  anxious  not  to  have  any  discussions  of 
any  kind ;  and  I  shall  therefore  propose  at  the  next  meeting 
to  leave  to  the  subscribers  to  the  new  resolution  the  name 
'Fellowship  of  the  New  Life,'  and  that  a  second  society  be 
organized  —  which  will  not  necessarily  be  exclusive  of  the 
•  Fellowship  '  —  on  somewhat  broader  and  more  indeterminate 
lines,  ...  it  being  open  to  any  to  belong  to  both  societies." 


FELLOWSHIP  OF  THE  NEW  LIFE  19 

This  "next  meeting"  was  held  on  January  4,  1884,  at 
which  the  above  proposals  were  substantially  agreed  to ;  the 
old  name  retained  by  those  who  originally  devised  it,  and  a 
new  organization  constituted  under  the  title  of  "  The  Fabian 
Society."  The  difference  between  them  was  mainly  this,  — 
that  the  latter  was  more  of  a  socialist  movement,  while  the 
former  was  ethical  and  individual ;  although  it  was  individual- 
istic only  as  the  majority  of  the  new  "Ethical  Societies"  were, 
or  became.  Its  aim  and  outcome  were  social,  but  its  basis  and 
starting  point  were  individual ;  and  all  its  aims  concentrated 
on  the  elevation  of  individual  life. 

The  following  was  its  original  basis,  as  drawn  up  by 
Mr.  Maurice  Adams,  and  adopted  on  November   16,   1883: 

We,  recognizing  the  evils  and  wrongs  that  must  beset  men  so  long 
as  our  social  life  is  based  upon  selfishness,  rivalry,  and  ignorance,  and 
desiring  above  all  things  to  supplant  it  by  a  life  based  upon  unselfish- 
ness, love,  and  wisdom,  unite,  for  the  purpose  of  realizing  the  higher 
life  among  ourselves,  and  of  inducing  and  enabling  others  to  do  the 
same. 

And  we  now  form  ourselves  into  a  Society,  to  be  called  the  Guild  of 
the  New  Life,  to  carry  out  this  purpose. 

And  so  the  two  societies  went  to  work,  on  independent  but 
friendly  lines. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Fellowship,  a  constitution,  or  pro- 
gramme—  the  "Vita  Nuova"  —  was  drawn  up  and  adopted, 
which  is  worthy  of  transcription  here,  as  it  was  undoubtedly 
better  in  its  first  simple  draft  than  it  became  in  its  subsequent 
enlargements  in  detail. 

Vita  Nuova 

Object.   The  cultivation  of  a  perfect  character  in  each  and  all. 

Principle.    The  subordination  of  material  things  to  spiritual  things. 

Fellowship.  The  sole  and  essential  condition  of  fellowship  shall  be  a 
single-minded,  sincere,  and  strenuous  devotion  to  the  object  and 
principle. 


20  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

Intercourse.  It  is  intended  in  the  first  instance  to  hold  frequent 
gatherings  for  intimate  social  intercourse,  as  a  step  towards  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  community  among  the  members. 

Designs.  The  promotion,  by  both  practice  and  precept,  of  the  follow- 
ing methods  of  contributing  toward  the  attainment  of  the  end  :  (i)  The 
supplanting  of  the  spirit  of  competition  and  self-seeking  by  that  of 
unselfish  regard  for  the  general  good ;  (2)  simplicity  of  living ;  (3)  the 
highest  and  completest  education  of  the  young  ;  (4)  the  introduction,  as 
far  as  possible,  of  manual  labor  in  conjunction  with  intellectual  pursuits  ; 
(5)  the  organization,  within  and  without  the  Fellowship,  of  meetings 
for  religious  communion,  and  of  lectures,  addresses,  classes,  and  con- 
ferences for  general  culture,  and  for  the  furtherance  of  the  aims  of  the 
Fellowship. 

So  far  the  original  programme,  or  manifesto,  as  at  first 
adopted  ;  but  as  the  conductors  of  this  Fellowship  did  not  date 
their  prospectuses,  it  is  somewhat  difficult  for  an  outsider, 
supplied  with  them  now,  to  follow  its  development.  It  is 
Mr.  Davidson's  relation  to  it,  however,  that  chiefly  concerns 
us ;  and  it  may  therefore  be  desirable  to  print  the  draft  of  its 
principles  and  aims,  which  was  drawn  up  by  him  but  set  aside 
in  favor  of  the  above  shorter  and  simpler  form.  Although 
never  adopted,  it  casts  much  light  on  the  mind  and  character 
of  the  writer.  It  is  therefore  printed  in  a  chapter  by  itself. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ORGANIZATION  OF  THE  NEW  FELLOWSHIP  AS  DRAWN 
UP  BY  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

I.  The  Occasion 

Whereas,  the  end  of  all  life  is  happiness,  and  the  free 
development  of  all  our  faculties ; 

And  whereas,  this  end  can  be  attained  only  by  bringing 
about  an  order  of  things  in  which  there  is  harmony,  depending 
upon  insight  into  the  nature  of  things,  and  a  willingness  to 
bring  about  that  harmony ; 

And  whereas,  no  system  hitherto  devised  has  accomplished 
this  end,  failing  either  through  neglect  to  obtain  the  highest 
insight,  or  from  a  want  of  force  to  act  in  accordance  with  it ; 

And  whereas,  therefore  the  world  —  notwithstanding  the 
great  advance  in  experience,  knowledge,  and  appliances  —  is 
still  as  regards  the  majority  of  its  people  sunk  in  ignorance, 
superstitution,  sin,  and  suffering  ; 

It  seems  desirable  to  a  small  number  of  persons  to  see 
whether  the  experience,  insight,  and  moral  force — accumulated 
and  transmitted  by  the  ages  —  could  not  be  so  formulated  and 
applied  as  to  bring  about  the  desired  harmony,  and  hence  the 
conditions  of  a  noble  and  happy  life.  They  therefore  set  before 
themselves  the  following  aims. 

II.  The  Principles 

i.  Unsparingly  to  put  aside  all  prejudice. 

2.  Through  experience  and  study  to  acquire  insight  and 
knowledge. 

3.  To  live  openly. 

21 


22  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

4.  To  banish  all  selfishness. 

5.  To  be  helpful  and  charitable  as  far  as  may  be,  intellectu- 
ally, morally,  and  materially. 

6.  To  make  no  compromise  with  evil. 

7.  To  form  a  union  on  these  principles  and  for  their  propa- 
gation, with  a  view  to  the  realization  of  the  highest  ideal 
life,  and  to  bring  about  the  same  conditions  for  others,  and 
especially  children,  to  do  the  same. 

The  immediate  aims  are  brotherhood  and  education,  to 
combine  the  greatest  possible  amount  of  personal  liberty  — 
every  man  a  law  to  himself  —  with  all  the  advantages  of  inti- 
mate society,  a  monasticism  of  families.  The  members  of  the 
society  enter  it  with  the  distinct  understanding  that  the  pre- 
vious possession  of  such  aims  constitutes  the  condition  of 
membership,  which  shall  at  all  times  be  voluntary ;  and  these 
shall  be  the  chief  aims  in  the  life  of  each  member,  and  shall 
rule  the  conduct  of  his  life.  While  the  society  purposes 
ultimately  to  live  in  community,  with  a  view  to  the  bringing 
about  the  necessary  conditions  of  education,  the  members  at 
present  propose  to  follow  these  aims  as  their  avocations  will 
allow.  During  this  interval  each  member  shall  use  every 
effort  to  realize  in  his  own  person  the  ideal  proposed  by  the 
society,  and  —  though  it  may  be  separated  by  distance  —  to 
live  a  common  life  of  intercourse  and  mutual  help.  With  this 
view  it  is  proposed  that  each  one  should  regulate  his  life  in 
accordance  with  the  following  rules. 

III.  Rules  for  the  Guidance  of  Life 

1.  To  have  as  the  aim  of  all  free  action  ;  some  portion  of 
the  aim  of  every  member  of  the  society  being  to  maintain 
this,  especially  in  the  way  of 'study. 

2.  To  introduce  regularity  into  his  daily  life,  having  a  pro- 
gramme for  each  day. 


ORGANIZATION  OF  THE  NEW  FELLOWSHIP        23 

3.  To  review  each  day  at  its  end,  and  to  see  with  what 
success  the  programme  has  been  carried  out,  and  the  purity 
of  the  motives  of  all  actions  performed. 

4.  To  keep  a  record  of  each  day,  with  all  its  incidents  and 
valuable  thoughts. 

5.  To  communicate  freely  with  all  other  members,  when 
either  intellectual  and  moral  aid  or  encouragement  is  needed. 

6.  To  take  sedulous  care  of  health,  avoiding  all  unneces- 
sary exposure,  stimulation,  or  excitement,  and  in  all  ways  to 
husband  strength. 

7.  To  avoid  all  gossip,  evil  speaking,  and  all  societies 
having  no  serious  aim. 

8.  To  endeavor  by  positive  efforts  to  obtain  the  enthusiatic 
approval  of  conscience. 

9.  In  speech  to  be  sparing  of  praise  or  blame. 

10.  In  life  to  aim  at  absolute  truthfulness,  simplicity,  and 
chastity,  in  thought,  word,  and  deed. 

11.  To  be  uniformly  courteous  in  word  and  deed. 

12.  To  avoid  all  impure  and  doubtful  literature  and  com- 
panionship. 

IV.  The  Creed 

1.  All  that  truly  is,  is  eternal :  such  is  every  soul. 

2.  God  is  the  Law  of  Being,  which  is  Love. 

3.  The  welfare  of  every  soul  depends  upon  its  own 
action. 

4.  Blessedness  is  perfect  accord  with  the  Law  of  Being, 
which  accordingly  is  reached  by  insight,  and  action  in  ac- 
cordance therewith. 

5.  Hence  the  aim  of  science  is  to  discover  the  laws  of 
being,  of  art  to  embody  them,  and  of  morality  to  live  in  agree- 
ment with  them. 

6.  It  should  therefore  be  the  aim  of  each  individual  to 
develop  himself  in  all  these  directions,  never  dosing  sight  of 
life  as  a  whole. 


24  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

7.  All  life  must  be  religion  ;  that  is,  action  in  view  of  the 
totality  of  conditions  :  this  only  is  holy. 

8.  Prayer  is  silent  meditation,  and  the  direction  of  the 
soul  upon  the  infinitude  and  grandeur  of  Being. 

9.  Public  worship  shall  consist  of  all  those  means  whereby 
the  soul  is  stirred  to  enthusiastic  sense  of  the  omnipresence 
of  Divine  Law. 

10.  Life  is  of  infinite  value,  and  pessimism  is  intellectual 
blindness. 

1 1 .  All  work  that  contributes  to  human  wellbeing  is  hon- 
orable. 

12.  The  only  title  to  property  is  labor. 

13.  In  marriage,  more  than  in  all  things,  regard  shall  be 
had  for  the  highest  ends,  and  it  shall  never  be  a  means  to  the 
indulgence  of  the  flesh.    Monogamy  is  the  law. 

14.  No  one  shall  marry  without  the  material  resources  neces- 
sary for  such  a  step  and  its  consequences. 

15.  Neglect  of  children  is  a  crime  of  the  first  rank,  and 
the  society  should  see  that  the  crime  is  prevented. 

16.  The  greatest  freedom  of  intercourse  between  the  sexes 
is  to  be  aimed  at  as  conducive  to  these  ends. 

17.  Every  man  during  his  lifetime  shall  have  the  right  to 
the  results  of  his  labor  ;  but  these  at  his  death  shall  fall  to  the 
society,  except  so  much  as  is  necessary  to  fulfill  the  responsi- 
bilities which  he  has  undertaken  by  marrying. 

18.  All  titles,  social  inequality,  and  family  prestige  shall  be 
abolished. 

19.  Character  and  action,  not  wealth,  are  the  grounds  of 
distinction. 

20.  Every  effort  in  the  way  of  teaching  and  writing  by 
members  shall  be  undertaken  in  the  name,  and  with  the 
approval,  of  the  society. 

21.  Simplicity,  combined  with  good  taste,  is  the  rule  of 
dress. 


ORGANIZATION  OF  THE  NEW  FELLOWSHIP        25 

22.  Except  in  the  domestic  circle  there  is  to  be  no  dis- 
tinction between  the  sexes. 

23.  Principles,  not  persons,  are  to  be  authoritative.  Great 
men  are  to  be  imitated,  not  worshiped. 

24.  All  authority  in  the  society,  except  that  which  is  con- 
stituted by  the  society  itself,  is  null  and  void. 

V.  The  Organization  and  its  Stages 

The  society  shall  date  from  January  1,  1883,  but  shall  not 
be  organized  until  a  meeting  of  members  can  take  place. 

The  society  shall  develop  through  the  following  four  stages : 
(1)  The  tentative  or  novitiate  stage  for  the  first  members,  in 
which  they  try  to  live  the  new  life ;  (2)  the  life  of  full  mem- 
bers not  yet  living  in  community;  (3)  the  life  of  the  mem- 
bers living  in  community,  but  not  independent ;  (4)  the  life 
of  the  members  living  in  an  independent  community. 

Alllnew  members  must  undergo  a  novitiate  sufficient  to 
satisfy  the  executive  of  their  ability  to  live  the  life  of  the 
community. 

Nothing  in  this  programme  except  the  main  principles  and 
purposes  shall  be  exempted  from  change,  if  such  a  change 
is  seen  to  be  desirable. 


CHAPTER  V 

DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  SOCIETY 

As  time  went  on  the  idea  of  a  cooperative  settlement  for 
industry  and  education  was  mooted,  and  a  somewhat  elaborate 
scheme  for  "the  establishment  of  an  industrial,  educational, 
and  residential  settlement  in  the  neighborhood  of  London, 
on  cooperative  principles,"  to  be  carried  out  by  the  Fellow- 
ship, was  drawn  up  and  circulated.  This  was  followed  by 
"proposals  for  the  establishment  of  a  school "  to  promote  the 
same  ends. 

The  thirty-four  numbers  of  Seedtime,  —  the  organ  of  the 
New  Fellowship,  —  ably  written  and  edited,  are  a  valuable 
memorial  of  its  work.  Like  every  other  pioneer  magazine, 
it  was  but  for  a  time ;  but  it  did  its  work  while  it  lived,  and 
the  seed  it  sowed  is  springing  still,  and  will  yield  future  har- 
vests. Part  of  a  characteristic  letter  from  Mr.  Davidson  to 
its  editor  may  be  given  here. 

"237  West  105TH  Street,  New  York, 
November  25,  1889. 
...  I  like  your  Seedtime,  although  it  is  not  up  to  the  mark 
of  The  Sower.  You  haven't  a  definite  enough  programme, 
and  are  too  much  carried  away  by  the  temporary  reform 
wave  of  socialism.  You  are  in  the  surge,  not  on  the  rock  — 
the  Rock  of  Ages. 

,  I  suppose,  tells  you  everything  but  the  facts  of  his 

own  popularity.  All  the  same,  he  is  very  popular.  Everybody 
loves  him,  and  he  will  be  a  success  here.  I  hope  he  will  in 
time  rise  above  his  somewhat  morbid  ide'e  fixe  of  state  social- 
ism into  simple  independence  of  thought,  and  be  himself,  not 
a  paper  wad  in  the  tail  of  a  popular  kite.    It  is  inexpressibly 

26 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  SOCIETY  27 

funny  to  find  an  admirer  of  Thoreau  professing  socialism. 
I  shall  expect  soon  to  hear  of  a  monk  advocating  the  uxori- 

ousness  of  Solomon.    But,  despite  these  inconsistencies, 

will  make  his  way,  and  be  very  helpful  to  us  all.  His  per- 
sonality, which  is  a  great  deal  bigger  than  socialism,  or  any 
other  ism,  will  be  his  guardian  angel  till  he  reaches  the 
heights  of  vision.  .  .  ." 

There  was  a  curious  element  of  exactingness  in  Davidson, 
amounting  in  some  instances  to  a  quasi-tyranny,  towards  the 
friends  who  differed  from  him  in  opinion  or  policy,  which  led 
to  transient  friction.  He  was  so  anxious  to  have  his  ideals 
wrought  out,  and  to  have  work  done  on  the  lines  that  com- 
mended themselves  to  him,  that  he  could  not  complacently 
brook  opposition.  It  was  perhaps  for  this  reason  that  his 
influence  was  stronger  at  times  over  the  women  students 
whom  he  taught  than  over  the  men. 

He  certainly  wished  the  work  of  the  movement  which 
he  started  and  organized  in  London  to  be  carried  out  in  his 
own  special  way  ;  and  he  regretted  the  introduction,  or  at  all 
events  the  prominence  in  it,  of  those  who,  as  he  put  it,  had 
"no  motives  higher  than  those  of  economic  utility."  He 
even  wrote  that  if  their  voices  prevailed,  those  "  who  desired 
something  higher  ought  to  secede  and  begin  all  over  again 
for  themselves."  When  he  was  wintering  at  Rome  (1883— 
1884),  and  received  from  London  a  fresh  programme  of  the 
New  Fellowship,  he  thought  it  good  so  far  as  it  went,  but 
found  it  "meager  and  indefinite."  "It  seems,"  he  wrote  "to 
be  settling  down  into  a  kind  of  quietism,  which,  in  my  opinion, 
bodes  ill."  He  was  deeply  grieved  that  some  of  its  members 
wished  "  to  discontinue  him,  on  the  ground  that  he  had  tried 
to  set  himself  up  as  the  'prophet'  of  the  Fellowship."  He 
wrote  that  he  was  "  quite  willing  to  withdraw  from  anything 
but  a  sympathetic  connection,"  as  his  work  in  the  future 
would  lie  across  the  Atlantic.    He  wished  all  who  knew  of 


28  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

his  relation  to  the  society  at  its  inception  not  to  wound  the 
feelings  of  those  who  had  entered  it  since  by  any  mention  of 
those  earlier  years.  "  It  has  always  been  my  earnest  and 
expressed  desire,"  he  wrote,  "that  the  society  should  feel 
itself  to  be  without  founders  and  without  'prophets.'"  He 
hoped,  however,  to  find  a  duplicate  of  the  Fellowship  in  the 
land  of  his  adoption,  and  promised  to  send  accounts  of  it  to 
the  old  society. 

Mr.  Percival  Chubb  writes  : 

"Our  differences  never  altered  my  fundamental  feelings 
of  admiration,  respect,  and  gratitude,  which  he  inspired  from 
the  first.  I  was  and  am  more  deeply  indebted  to  him  than  to 
almost  any  man  I  have  known.  I  can  never  repay  the  debt. 
...  I  knew  him  from  the  time  when  he  was  living  at  Domo- 
dossola,  and  pursuing  his  Rosminian  studies,  i.e.  just  after 
the  publication  of  his  book  on  Rosmini's  philosophical  sys- 
tem. I  was  very  close  to  him  in  the  attempt  to  write  out  a 
new  type  of  life  ('Vita  Nuova,'  we  used  to  style  it),  and 
through  this  association  became  the  secretary  of  the  Fellow- 
ship of  the  New  Life,  and  also  for  a  time  of  the  offshoot 
society,  the  Fabian.  His  letters  record  pretty  fully  the  phases 
of  impulse  and  conviction  through  which  he  went  at  this 
time.  I  was  at  his  summer  school  at  Farmington  and  in  the 
Adirondacks  for  two  summers.  I  also  know  something  of  his 
last  labors  with  the  Breadwinners,  because  I  continued  a 
little  of  the  work  with  one  of  his  classes  after  he  died." 


CHAPTER  VI 

ESTIMATES   OF   DAVIDSON   BY  PERCIVAL  CHUBB  AND 

FELIX  ADLER 

The  previous  chapter  concluded  with  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Chubb  ;  and  as  he  wrote  a  memorial  notice  of  his  friend  after 
Davidson's  death,  in  The  Ethical  Record  (of  which  he  is  editor), 
part  of  this  estimate  is  now  placed  in  a  sequel  chapter  (although 
it  anticipates  some  of  his  teacher's  later  work),  so  as  to  bring 
separate  parts  of  Mr.  Chubb's  appreciation  together  as  a  whole. 

Mr.  Chubb  wrote : 

"  He  was  a  remarkable  man,  intellectually  and  emotionally  ; 
intense  in  his  convictions  and  in  his  likes  and  dislikes,  large- 
hearted  and  recklessly  generous  of  time  and  strength  to  those 
who  sought  his  help.  He  was  especially  attracted  by  promising 
young  men,  for  whom  he  had  a  romantic  feeling  that  was  in  the 
best  sense  Hellenic.  There  was  scarcely  a  period  of  his  life 
when  he  did  not  lavish  upon  some  hopeful  and  needy  youth  the 
best  of  his  intellectual  powers  and  stores,  often  money  from 
his  none  too  copious  supply,  always  an  ebullient  childlike  affec- 
tion and  loyalty,  an  unselfish  and  delicate  thoughtfulness. 

Intellectually  Mr.  Davidson  always  bore  the  marks  of  his 
Scottish  origin.  He  was  modern  in  his  equipment  and  in  his 
outlook ;  but  with  this  modernness  was  mingled  a  touch  of 
the  scholasticism  and  the  sectarian  fire,  the  parti  pris,  of  a 
John  Knox.  He  was  almost  fiercely  affirmative  of  his  own 
convictions  ;  they  were  the  bread  of  life  to  him.  He  boasted 
that  he  was  sectarian;  he  always  believed  that  his  philosophy 
was  the  supreme  way  to  salvation ;  and  he  was  at  all  times  an 
ardent,  fearless,  outspoken  missionary  in  its  behalf.    What 

29 


3<D  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

that  philosophy  was  it  would  be  difficult  to  formulate,  for  it 
underwent  many  changes.  He  remained  a  devout  Aristotelian, 
and  an  arch-enemy  of  the  Spenceriacs  (as  he  called  them)  and 
Hegelians.  He  owed  much  to  the  mediaeval  men,  — Aquinas 
and  Bonaventura  and  Dante ;  and  among  his  more  modern 
devotions  were  those  to  Giordano  Bruno,  Leibnitz,  Goethe, 
and  Tennyson.  His  interests  were  centered  in  the  greatest 
minds  of  history ;  and  he  had  the  distinguished  amplitude, 
the  large  bearing,  that  came  of  daily  converse  with  them. 

He  brought  to  the  support  of  his  views  a  surprising  wealth 
of  detailed  knowledge,  of  which  his  marvelously  tenacious 
memory  gave  him  ready  command.  He  was  a  master  of  many 
tongues,  and  read  and  spoke  ancient  and  modern  Greek  with 
almost  as  great  a  facility  as  German  and  Italian.  He  had 
traveled  much,  and  enjoyed  converse  with  many  distinguished 
Europeans.  It  was  the  very  richness  of  his  mental  acquisi- 
tion and  the  complexity  of  his  nature  —  compounded  as  it 
was  of  both  rationalistic  and  mystic  elements  —  that  stood  in 
the  way  of  a  thoroughly  clarified,  consistent,  and  stable  phi- 
losophy. He  had  an  immense  power  of  work,  although  the 
printed  output  of  his  life  is  not  large,  and  does  not  do  justice 
to  his  scholarly  capacities.  Some  translations  of  verse  and 
prose  ;  a  volume  on  the  Parthenon  frieze  and  other  Greek 
themes;  a  presentation  of  Rosmini's  philosophy,  of  which  he 
may  be  said  to  be  the  discoverer  for  English-speaking  people; 
volumes  on  Aristotle  and  Greek  education,  on  the  education  of 
the  Greek  people  (his  best  book,  we  think),  on  Tennyson's  In 
Memoriam,  and  on  Rousseau  ;  some  articles  in  Warner's  Li- 
brary of  the  World's  Best  Literature  ;  and  A  History  of  Educa- 
tion, —  these  are  his  inadequate  legacy.  He  left  many  lectures 
in  manuscript,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  best  of  these  will  be 
published,  with  a  memoir  of  his  interesting  life  and  personality. 

He  touched  the  ethical  movement  mainly  on  the  side  of  its 
regard  for  practical  well-doing,  and  was  especially  attracted 
by  what  he  considered  to  be  its  sincere,  undisguised,  fearless, 


ESTIMATES  OF  DAVIDSON 


31 


and  yet  courteous  attitude  towards  conventional  religion. 
Scholar  and  thinker  as  he  was  preeminently,  he  was  always 
aiming,  nevertheless,  at  practice,  —  dreaming  Utopian  dreams, 
and  moving  toward  their  realization.  This  gave  him  a  vivid 
interest  in  reform  and  in  modern  sociology.  He  was  the  prime 
mover  in  starting  the  Utopian  schemes  of  the  Fellowship  of 
the  New  Life  in  England  and  America.  He  nursed  the  hope 
at  one  time  that  his  own  beautiful  acres  at  Keene,  in  the 
Adirondacks,  might  become  the  summer  home  of  a  band  of 
idealists  vowed  to  new,  simpler,  and  nobler  ways  of  living. 
Here  he  had  his  Summer  School  of  the  Culture  Sciences,  a 
quite  unique  establishment,  that  at  one  time  carried  a  strong 
suggestion  of  such  a  Utopia. 

But  nothing  was  more  admirably  characteristic  of  the  man 
than  the  labors  which  during  the  last  two  years  of  his  life  he 
carried  on  at  the  Educational  Alliance  on  the  lower  East  Side 
of  New  York.  Here  he  had  gathered  about  him,  in  peculiarly 
close  bonds,  a  body  of  young  Russian  Hebrews,  whom  he 
endeavored  to  help  to  get  culture  in  the  broadest,  manliest 
sense  of  the  term.  More  important,  we  are  led  to  believe, 
than  any  actual  results  in  scholarship  achieved  was  the  power- 
ful, transforming,  personal  influence  exerted  over  these  young 
boys  and  girls  by  a  man  who  could  show  in  such  relationships 
a  magnetic  charm,  a  sympathy  and  tenderness  of  interest,  a 
whole-souled  devotion  which  will  undoubtedly  have  left  a  deep 
mark  upon  many  lives.  The  labor  was  a  labor  of  love.  The 
man's  whole  soul  was  in  it.  His  feeling  in  regard  to  it  is  well 
indicated  in  a  recent  remark  of  his  to  a  friend  that  the  whole 
of  his  long  life  had  been  a  preparation  for  just  this.  He  died, 
leaving  not  only  these  young  people,  but  others,  youthful  and 
aging,  under  obligations  for  all  kinds  of  chivalrous  service 
done  to  them.  Their  gratitude  will  assuredly  follow  him  with 
their  sorrow  for  his  all  too  early  death. 

The  mortal  part  of  Thomas  Davidson  —  no  one,  be  it 
said,   had  a  more  impassioned,  invincible  faith  in  personal 


32  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

immortality  than  he  —  was  buried  at  Glenmore  in  the  Adi- 
rondack forest,  where  he  sought  summer  peace  while  he  lived. 
At  the  burial  Dr.  Felix  Adler,  always  his  good  friend,  deliv- 
ered the  following  address  : 

'It  is  very  still,  and  beautiful,  and  solemn  here.  The  first 
premonitory  pang  of  the  frost  has  thrilled  the  trees,  but  has 
served  only  to  deck  them  with  an  added  if  evanescent  glory. 
The  grand  panorama  of  mountain  and  valley  that  opens  out 
on  every  side,  as  we  stand  on  this  noble  plateau,  has  never 
revealed  itself,  it  seems  to  me,  in  more  crystalline  clearness 
than  on  this  perfect  day.  The  sunlight  shines  upon  this  bier 
covered  by  loving  hands  with  autumn  foliage  and  flowers. 
And,  in  the  midst  of  this  peace  and  beauty,  in  this  grove,  r.ear 
to  the  house  in  which  he  dwelt  all  these  years,  you  have 
selected  the  spot  where  shall  rest  the  earthly  part  of  Thomas 
Davidson,  whom  many  of  you  revered  as  a  master  and  loved 
as  a  friend,  and  whom  all  admired  as  a  superior  and  excep- 
tional man. 

This  is  not  the  occasion  to  attempt,  even  in  outline,  an 
exact  estimate  of  him  as  a  thinker,  as  a  scholar,  and  as  a 
humanitarian.  Doubtless  an  opportunity  will  be  offered  later 
on  for  competent  judges  to  do  justice  to  him  in  all  these 
particulars,  and  to  pay  to  his  memory  an  adequate  and  dis- 
criminating tribute  worthy  of  the  contributions  which  he 
made  to  literature,  to  philosophy,  and  to  the  cause  of  practi- 
cal beneficence.  I  speak  here  as  a  neighbor,  as  a  friend,  and 
as  one  who  serves,  for  the  time  being,  as  a  mouthpiece  to 
voice  the  sentiments  of  hundreds  of  men  and  women  who 
cannot  be  present  with  us,  but  who,  in  spirit  and  from  a  dis- 
tance, mingle  their  tender  farewells  with  ours.  A  man's 
thought  is  assayed  by  inexorable  chemists,  and  the  quantum 
of  gold  it  contains  is  determined  according  to  undeviating 
standards.  The  value  of  a  man's  work,  too,  on  the  whole, 
is  tested  by  expert  fellow-workers.    But  what  a  man  is,  as 


ESTIMATES  OF  DAVIDSON  33 

distinct  from  what  he  thinks  and  from  what  he  does,  —  his  char- 
acter, the  best  part  of  him,  —  reflects  itself  somehow,  with 
immediate,  almost  photographic  distinctness,  upon  all  who 
live  with  him  and  deal  with  him,  be  they  lettered  or  unlet- 
tered, his  equals  or  his  inferiors  in  mental  attainments.  And 
it  is  of  this  generic  impression,  which  every  one  received  and 
could  not  fail  to  receive  from  Thomas  Davidson,  that  I  would 
lovingly  speak. 

There  was  a  certain  air  of  elevation,  a  certain  tone  of  dis- 
tinction, about  him,  which  even  the  most  ordinary  could  not 
but  feel  on  coming  into  touch  with  him,  like  that  which  one 
observes  among  the  high-born  who  are  accustomed  to  move 
in  the  society  of  the  great ;  only  that,  in  his  case,  the  great 
with  whom  he  associated  were  the  everlasting  princes,  the 
lords  of  wisdom,  the  prophets,  the  seers,  the  sages,  and  the 
saints.  With  them  he  kept  company  in  his  study,  and  when 
he  emerged  from  it  and  entered  into  ordinary  society  and 
engaged  in  ordinary  converse,  the  manners  which  he  had 
acquired  in  that  elect  circle  did  not  desert  him,  and  somehow 
the  afflatus  of  great  ideas  was  about  him  even  in  the  routine 
of  daily  intercourse.  Justice,  freedom,  perfection,  immortality; 
these  words  and  what  they  stand  for  were  as  close  to  him 
as  the  thought  of  his  daily  wage  is  to  the  laborer,  or  of  his 
hay  is  to  the  farmer. 

IIoXXo)  to  (f>povelv  ev&ai/iovias  irpcorov  virdp'ye.i  (Wisdom  is 
by  far  the  major  part  of  well-being).  This  line  of  the  Greek 
tragedian  applies  to  his  life.  To  think  wisely,  to  try  to  think 
so,  was  the  greater  part  of  his  happiness.  And  this  "  trying  " 
is  to  be  understood  in  a  severe  and  thoroughgoing  sense.  His 
scholarship  was  admired  by  all  who  knew  him.  His  vast  com- 
mand of  languages  and  literatures,  ancient  and  modern, — 
Greek,  Hebrew,  Arabic,  Italian,  German,  etc., — his  minute 
acquaintance  with  the  recondite  learning  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
all  this  was  astonishing.  But  still  more  astonishing  was  it 
how  lightly  he  carried  this  heavy  baggage,  how  entirely  he 


34  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

forbore  to  intrude  or  make  parade  of  his  great  erudition,  how 
completely  he  converted  into  the  tissue  of  his  own  thinking 
the  elements  he  absorbed  from  elsewhere.  He  explored  the 
storehouses  of  the  ancients  in  order  to  find  therein  the  treas- 
ure which  he  could  appropriate,  and  turn  to  account  in  the 
endeavor  to  live  better,  and  to  enable  others  to  live  better. 
He  tracked  his  way  through  the  wilderness  of  scholasticism 
in  order  to  trace  to  their  sources  the  streams  of  error  which 
he  believed  to  be  still  vitiating  the  life  of  to-day.  To  be  hon- 
est with  himself,  to  be  sure  that  he  had  a  right  to  an  opinion, 
was  the  stringent  rule  to  which  he  subjected  himself.  His 
scholarship,  and  the  use  he  made  of  it,  was  the  outcome  of 
intellectual  honesty. 

The  second  quality  which  seems  to  me  to  have  adorned  his 
character  to  an  exceptional  degree  was  the  plain-spokenness, 
the  free  and  fearless  avowal  of  his  convictions.  He  did  not 
fail,  I  think,  in  due  respect  for  beliefs  held  sacred  by  others, 
but  he  esteemed  it  a  right  and  a  duty  to  express  his  own  with 
no  uncertain  sound,  without  any  truckling  show  of  conformity 
or  timid  apology.  He  believed  that  the  progress  of  mankind 
depends  on  the  acceptance  of  true  ideas,  and  the  rejection  of 
false ;  and  he  rightly  thought  that  the  inherent  strength  and 
truth  of  ideas  can  be  fairly  tested  only  if  all  earnest  thinkers 
shall  freely  and  courageously  state  the  results  of  their  think- 
ing, without  fear  of  the  social  or  material  penalties  that  may 
follow  such  avowal.  In  a  world  where  inner  convictions  are  so 
often  veiled  in  timorous  and  guarded  generalities,  in  a  world 
in  which  the  partial  suppression  rather  than  the  full  expression 
of  the  thoughts  that  relate  to  the  highest  interests  of  man  is 
so  often  commended  both  by  precept  and  example,  his  cour- 
age, his  boldness,  his  perfect  sincerity,  his  readiness  to  sacri- 
fice interest  to  truth,  appears  to  me  to  be  one  of  his  fairest 
titles  to  the  respect  of  right-thinking  men. 

He  had  something  of  the  Greek  genius  for  friendship.  He 
was  attached  to  his  friends,  especially  his  younger  friends, 


ESTIMATES  OF  DAVIDSON  35 

with  a  passionate  devotion.  His  attitude  toward  guests  and 
visitors  was  something  unique.  Who  of  us  shall  forget  the 
radiant  look  of  pleasure  in  his  face,  the  hearty  ring  in  the 
voice,  the  extended  arms  with  which  he  welcomed  those  who 
came  to  share  his  ever  generous  hospitality  ? 

But,  above  all,  his  charity  was  remarkable,  a  charity 
dictated  by  magnanimity ;  for  his  feelings  toward  the  poor 
were  such  as  only  a  great  soul  could  be  capable  of.  What 
he  pitied  in  their  lot  was  not  merely  and  not  chiefly  their 
material  want,  though  he  was  generous  in  supplying  that 
also ;  but  his  heart  went  out  to  them  because  of  their  lack  of 
the  mental  and  spiritual  goods  which  make  life  large  and  fine. 
And  this  need  he  sought  to  fill  and  did  fill  without  stint  out 
of  his  own  affluence,  seeking  to  awaken  the  dormant  soul  in 
others,  to  draw  them  to  his  elevation ;  or,  rather,  when  at  his 
best,  to  quicken  in  them  the  power  of  rising  through  their 
own  effort.  And  so  we  find  that  his  last  years  were  spent  in 
dispensing  this  rich  intellectual  aid  to  those  who  eagerly 
craved  for  it  and  who  so  gratefully  appreciated  it.  And  in 
the  concluding  chapter  of  his  last  book  —  a  book  written  in 
the  anguish  of  the  terrible  disease  that  was  to  terminate  his 
career  —  he  left  as  a  legacy  the  idea  of  establishing  this  sort 
of  charity  on  a  grand  scale ;  the  idea  of  a  college  for  bread- 
winners, intended  to  open  to  the  toiling  millions  the  world's 
best  culture  and  to  help  to  redeem  them  by  quickening  in 
them  the  springs  of  mental  and  spiritual  power. 

He  loved  these  hills,  whether  it  was  that  they  reminded 
him  of  his  native  Scotland,  or  whether  his  soul,  being  attuned 
to  the  sublime,  found  a  certain  kinship  in  these  large  vistas, 
and  his  free  spirit  rejoiced  in  the  freedom,  the  wild  beauty, 
and  the  purity  of  nature  here  about  him.  He  loved  his  Glen- 
more,  and  it  is  fitting  that  here  at  Glenmore  the  earthly  part 
of  him  should  find  its  rest.  The  eternal  procession  of  the 
stars  will  pass  nightly  over  his  silent  grave  ;  the  storms  of 
winter  will  sweep!  over  this  plateau ;  and  the  snow  doubtless 


36  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

will  drift,  and  heap  itself  high  above  this  mound  ;  then  the 
spring  will  come,  and  cover  it  again  with  verdure  and  flowers. 
The  seasons  will  come,  the  seasons  will  go ;  but  he  who  once 
was  the  life  of  this  place,  emanating  life,  will  appear  amongst 
us  no  more.  Yet  in  no  sense  can  we  think  of  him  as  wholly 
vanished.  He  himself  believed  strenuously  that  man  is  "an 
eternal  being  with  an  infinite  task."  And  the  thought  of 
immortality  seems  to  have  been  as  certain  to  him  almost  as 
existence  itself.  But  even  from  us  who  survive  him  he  can- 
not entirely  vanish.  He  has  sown  thought  seeds  that  will 
flourish  in  many  hearts.  He  has  helped  to  shape  lives  that 
will  never  entirely  lose  the  nobler  imprint  he  has  given  them. 
He  has  kindled  the  torch  of  ideals  that  will  never  wholly  be 
extinguished.' 

Dr.  Adler  then  read  the  following  poem  by  Swinburne  : 

Whoso  takes  the  world's  life  on  him  and  his  own  lays  down, 
He,  dying  so,  lives. 

Whoso  bears  the  whole  heaviness  of  the  wronged  world's  weight 

And  puts  it  by, 
It  is  well  with  him  suffering,  though  he  face  man's  fate ; 

How  should  he  die  ? 

Seeing  death  has  no  part  in  him  any  more,  no  power 

Upon  his  head ; 
He  has  bought  his  eternity  with  a  little  hour, 

And  is  not  dead. 

For  an  hour,  if  ye  look  for  him,  he  is  no  more  found, 

For  one  hour's  space  ; 
Then  ye  lift  up  your  eyes  to  him  and  behold  him  crowned, 

A  deathless  face. 

On  the  mountains  of  memory,  by  the  world's  wellsprings, 

In  all  men's  eyes, 
Where  the  light  of  the  life  of  him  is  on  all  past  things, 

Death  only  dies." 


CHAPTER  VII 
LETTERS   TO   HAVELOCK  ELLIS 

Mr.  Havelock  Ellis,  who  knew  Davidson  intimately  while 
both  were  members  of  the  New  Fellowship  in  London,  writes 
me  from  Carbis  Water,  Lelant,  Cornwall,  and  sends  me  all 
the  letters  he  received  from  him.  Though  they  were  thrown 
together  for  only  a  short  period,  Mr.  Ellis  saw  a  very 
characteristic  aspect  of  Davidson,  when  he  was  making  a 
valiant  effort  to  affect  the  life  of  his  time.  He  considered  him 
a  unique  and  magnetic  personality  rather  than  a  great  writer. 

I  have  put  together  some  extracts  from  these  letters  to 
Mr.  Ellis,  and  add  to  them  a  chapter  of  reminiscences  which 
the  latter  has  sent  to  me.  He  wrote  in  April,  1903  :  "I  was 
one  of  the  three  young  men  whom  Thomas  Davidson  gathered 
around  him  in  London  twenty  years  since,  constituting  the 
nucleus  from  which,  indirectly,  the  Fabian  Society  sprang. 
...  I  have  always  considered  him  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able men  I  have  known,  though  my  own  relationship  with 
him  was  brief." 

To  Mr.  Ellis,  Davidson  wrote  from  Chelsea  on  October  3, 
1883: 

"I  do  not  know  how  you  were  affected  by  the  discussion 
of  last  evening.  As  for  me,  it  at  once  confirmed  me  in  my 
belief  in  the  need  of  a  community,  and  showed  clearly  some 
of  the  most  formidable  difficulties  in  the  way  of  such  a  thing ; 
the  want  of  a  spiritual  light,  the  childish  prejudice  against 
•  metaphysics,'  the  absence  of  whole-heartedness,  the  fear  of 
ridicule.  Kant  and  Comte  have  done  their  work,  taken  the 
sun  out  of  life,  and  left  men  groping  in  darkness.    A  recent 

37 


38  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

German  book  opens  with  the  sentence,  '  Kant  must  be  for- 
gotten,' and  this  I  cordially  echo.  The  present  crude  notions 
about  metaphysics  must  be  put  away,  and  the  fact  clearly 
brought  to  light  that  without  metaphysics  even  physics  are 
meaningless,  that  that  which  appears  also  is,  that  beneath 
all  seeming  is  that  which  seems.  To  me  it  is  puerile  to  ques- 
tion this;  but  reactionary  philosophies  have  brought  many  men 
to  a  different  conclusion  with  what  I  cannot  but  consider  a 
miserable  result.  You  miss  a  positive  basis  in  our  little  pro- 
gramme. The  fact  is  there  never  can  be  any  positive  basis 
for  anything  but  a  metaphysical  one,  for  the  simple  reason 
that  all  abiding  reality  is  metaphysical ;  that  is  to  say,  lies 
behind  the  physical  or  sensuously  phenomenal. 

I  hold  that  we  know  the  metaphysical  more  clearly  and 
more  directly  than  the  physical,  and  indeed  know  the  physical 
only  through  it.  I  think,  moreover,  after  last  night's  experi- 
ence, we  had  better  take  the  bull  by  the  horns,  and  boldly 
say  we  accept  the  metaphysical  basis.  We  gain  nothing  by 
compromise  in  this  matter.  You  doubtless  know  that  even 
J.  S.  Mill  in  his  last  days  was  forced  to  admit  that  without 
metaphysics  we  should  never  find  a  ground  for  anything. 
You  are  entirely  right  in  saying  that  any  attempt  to  build  a 
system  without  new  forces,  that  is,  new  metaphysical  entities, 
is  like  building  a  house  out  of  nothing.  The  religious  basis 
which  —  whatever  you  may  call  it  —  you  occupy,  must,  it 
seems  to  me,  be  metaphysical.  Let  us  not,  however,  misunder- 
stand this  term  by  making  it  mean  fantastical  It  means  sim- 
ply the  unchanging  amid  change,  that  which  makes  change 
possible.  Change  is  utterly  impossible  except  on  the  supposi- 
tion that  there  is  an  unchanging  subject  of  change.  Let  us 
say  this,  and  then  inquire  what  we  know  of  this  unchanging.  I 
think  we  shall  find  that  it  is  necessarily  of  the  nature  of  spirit. 

Would  you  be  vexed  if  I  recommended  you  to  study  Rosmini's 
works  ?  Leaving  out  the  dogmatic  part  of  them,  I  think  they 
are  the  gospel  of  future  thought.    With  your  freedom  from 


LETTERS  TO  HAVELOCK  ELLIS 


39 


prejudice,  your  desire  to  do  the  best  you  know,  and  your 
human  sympathy,  you  would,  I  am  certain,  find  great  satis- 
faction in  them,  and  be  able  to  free  yourself  from  the  last 
remnant  of  that  terrible  monism  from  which  hardly  any  Eng- 
lish thinker  escapes.  In  return,  I  shall  read  Hinton  with  the 
utmost  care.  As  is  often  the  case  with  a  man  who  changes 
his  position  in  midlife,  he  seems  not  to  have  seen  the  whole 
truth  at  any  one  time,  but  to  have  seen  it  in  two  pieces  with- 
out the  connecting  bond.    Is  not  this  so  ? 

I    have    heard    of    men    not    daring    to   call  their   souls 

their  own,  but  I  never  knew  a  man  before  Mr.  W who 

openly  professed  that  he  did  not.  I  think  it  is  vain  to  try 
to  work  with  men,  however  good,  who  have  lost  the  religious 
sentiment." 

"October  4.  Since  I  wrote  the  above,  I  have  had  two 
most  encouraging  talks,  one  with  Mr.  Clarke,  and  one  with 
Mr.  Champion.  Mr.  Clarke  is  one  of  the  thorough  men,  per- 
fectly honest  and  simple,  and  he  is  with  us.  Mr.  Champion 
was  delightful,  took  the  matter  seriously,  and  promised  to 
encourage  his  friends  to  go  into  the  matter.  Curiously  enough, 
he  and  they  have  been  thinking  of  the  same  thing.  Champion 
is  full  of  native  religious  feeling,  and  has  some  very  practical 
notions.  He  took  away  my  paper,  the  old  programme,  and 
your  <  First  Principles '  to  show  to  his  friends,  and  will  tell 
us  shortly  what  is  the  result.  As  soon  as  I  hear  I  shall 
arrange  a  meeting  here,  omitting  the  men  of  little  faith.  I 
am  anxious  to  see  you,  and  to  bind  again  the  broken  threads 
of  our  progress."  .  .  . 

In  another  undated  letter  written  from  Chelsea  shortly 
afterwards,  the  following  occurs  : 

"  It  is  all  in  vain  to  imagine  that  we  can  have  correct  prac- 
tice without  correct  thinking,  and  correct  thinking  implies 
correct  metaphysics.  ...  A  life  in  which  the  deepest  and 
highest  thought  was  indifferent  in  relation  to  practice  would 


4<D  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

be  a  life  without  intellectual  endeavor,  and  without  poetry. 
...  Is  not  the  deepest  of  all  bonds,  and  the  purest  intellec- 
tual sympathy,  community  of  insight?" 

Writing  as  one  about  to  leave  England  and  the  circle  of 
friends  he  had  made  in  the  New  Fellowship,  he  said  he  "  dis- 
dained all  pretentions  to  leadership."  Of  one  of  the  members 
he  wrote  :  "  There  is  a  power  of  soul  deep  down  in  him,  an 
infinite  human  tenderness  that  almost  fascinates  me.  If  you 
will  work  with  him,  you  will  find  him  a  hero." 

On  October  20,  1883,  he  wrote  : 

"Since  I  saw  you  I  have  read  most  of  Hinton's  Man,  and 
his  Dwelling-place.  Hinton  was  plainly  a  man  of  genius,  and 
of  a  great  soul ;  but  he  lacked  analytical  power,  at  least  when 
that  book  was  written.  He  insisted  upon  the  eternity  of  the 
spirit,  but  could  not  see  what  was  involved  in  that  admission. 
He  seemed  to  think  that  something  might  '  happen '  to  the 
eternal  at  death. 

You  think,  and  rightly,  that  your  'action  must  be  true,' 
but  you  are  wrong  in  thinking  that  that  is  synonymous  with 
'must  be  determined  by  things  as  they  are  now!  In  the 
true  there  is  no  now.  Your  action  can  be  true  only  when 
it  relates  to  things  as  they  are  in  their  eternal  nature.  There 
is  no  'true,'  except  with  reference  to  the  eternal.  I  would 
give  much  if  I  could  make  you  see  that.  '  Is '  itself  has  no 
meaning  except  as  applied  to  the  eternal.  This  is  the  reason 
why  I  keep  repeating  that  we  must  build  all  moral  and  spirit- 
ual life  upon  the  eternal  and  the  metaphysical,  and  not  upon 
the  now  or  the  then.  Will  you  study  Rosmini  for  a  year  or 
two?  Will  you  give  your  spare  time  to  him  ?  If  you  do,  I  think 
you  will  see  that  he  can  reveal  to  you  the  '  unknown  God '  of 
Hinton.  I  have  a  note  to-day  from  Mr.  Channing,  in  which 
he  speaks  of  Rosmini  as  'the  grandest,  wisest,  and  pro- 
f oundest  philosopher  of  our  age '  ;  and  he  is  right,  Rosmini's 
analytical  power  was  never  equalled. 


LETTERS  TO  HAVELOCK  ELLIS        41 

You  can  now  guess  my  answer  to  your  second  query.  I 
say  the  habits  of  every  one,  children  as  well  as  others,  are  to 
be  regulated  with  reference  to  their  eternal  essence,  and  not 
merely  with  reference  to  an  abstract  now,  a  word  which  can 
have  no  meaning  except  in  relation  to  eternity.  And  by  eter- 
nity I  mean  not  endlessness,  but  the  correlate  condition  of 
time,  that  which  makes  time  possible.  The  moral  law  reads, 
'Act  with  reference  to  the  eternal.' 

I  agree  most  cordially  with  you  when  you  say  that  the 
recognized  things  are  not  the  good  things  ;  but  I  am  curious 
to  know  what  you  think  the  good  things  to  be.  I  suspect 
you  think  they  are  the  enjoyment  of  each  passing  '  now,'  and 
entire  self-forgetfulness.  Here  I  cannot  agree  with  you.  To 
me  they  are  the  enjoyment  of  the  eternal,  and  continual  sac- 
rifice of  the  temporal  self  to  the  eternal  self.  Morality  means 
that,  and  nothing  but  that.  But  we  must  be  careful  not  to 
fall  into  Buddhism  and  suppose  that  we  are  to  sacrifice  an 
eternal  self  to  a  monistic  self  in  which  all  distinction  is  lost, 
and  in  which  sacrifice  of  self  would  cease  to  be  possible.  Hin- 
ton  continually  falls  into  this  grave  error.  The  eternal  is  not 
the  formless,  and  the  unindividuated.  It  is  the  individuated, 
and  eternally  formed.  You  and  I  are  eternal  forms,  whose 
inexhaustible  taste  with  reference  to  each  other  is  to  pene- 
trate each  other  through  inexhaustible  love  and  knowledge. 
'God  is  love.'  God  is  the  loving,  knowing  interpretation  of 
eternal  forms.  He  is  joy,  life,  light,  'letizia  che  trascende 
ogni  dolzore.'  We  must  never  forget  that.  He  is  the  ideality 
of  which  we  are  the  reality.  But  if  the  reality  should  cease, 
so  likewise  would  the  ideality.  He  is  the  object  to  which  we 
are  subjects,  infinite  in  multitude.  As  I  have  said  often,  He 
is  the  'law  of  being,'  and  in  that  law  we  live  and  move  and 
have  our  being.  These  are  the  convictions  that  inspire  me : 
they  are  my  life.  Without  them  I  should  not  care  to  live  at 
all ;  indeed  I  could  not,  in  any  wise  sense,  live  at  all.  And  if 
I  can  fully  realize  my  eternity  in  this  life,  death  will  be  of  no 


42  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

consequence  to  me ;  indeed  it  is  of  very  small  consequence 
to  me  now.  When  a  man  has  realized  his  eternity,  flesh  and 
blood  are  only  obstacles  to  him,  to  his  best  efficiency.  .  .  ." 

"  75  Via  Nazionale,  Roma, 

November  30,  1883. 

.  .  .  That  this  world  is  the  only  actual  and  eternal  one  is  so 
plainly  not  true  that  I  cannot  imagine  any  serious  man  main- 
taining that  it  is.  Either  he  is  talking  paradox  intentionally, 
or  else  he  does  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  word  he  is  using. 
Mr.  Hinton  plainly  was  in  the  latter  predicament.  .  .  .  The 
truth  is  'this  world,' — the  world  of  phenomena  and  change 
—  is  not  actual  at  all,  much  less  is  it  eternal.  .  .  .  We  must 
distinguish  the  actual  from  the  real,  the  eternal  from  the  con- 
tinuous. ...  To  say  that  '  everything  of  real  spiritual  value 
may  be  attained  in  this  world '  is  to  use  words  without  mean- 
ing. The  only  thing  of  spiritual  value  is  eternal  self-posses- 
sion, and  to  say  that  this  can  be  attained  in  time  is  as  untrue 
as  anything  can  be.  What  is  the  use  of  an  attainment  that  is 
lost  the  instant  it  is  attained  ?  For  whom,  or  for  what,  is  it 
attained  ?  Are  we  mere  rockets  whose  aim  is  to  rise  to  a  cer- 
tain brilliant  height,  only  to  fall  back  instantly,  like  a  stick 
into  the  dark  ?  Those  who  say  so  are  utterly  and  totally  blind 
to  the  true  life  of  the  soul.  .  .  . 

That  the  moral  law  is  '  Act  with  reference  to  the  eternal ' 
is  to  me  the  deepest  and  most  momentous  of  all  truths.  .  .  . 
We  must  withdraw  into  the  eternal,  and  work  from  that  into 
endless  time.  For  eternity  is  by  no  means  endless  time.  Eter- 
nity is  that  in  which  there  is  no  succession  possible :  endless 
time  is  the  form  of  infinite  succession.  I  do  not  see  how  two 
things  could  be  more  different,  or  how  any  difference  could 
be  more  clear. 

If  the  New  Life  means  the  destruction  of  habits  then 
I  have  no  desire  to  live  it.  My  great  aim  in  life  is  to  form 
habits,  permanent  habits ;  e.g.  habits  of  kindliness,  habits  of 


LETTERS  TO  HAVELOCK  ELLIS        43 

truthfulness,  habits  of  openness,  habits  of  painstaking,  habits 
of  breaking  up  habits  when  they  are  no  longer  useful.  .  .  . 

Life  is  not  mere  emotion,  nor  is  there  in  emotion  any- 
thing moral  or  immoral,  else  the  lower  animals  would  be  as 
moral  or  immoral  as  man.  There  is  an  intellectual  life  as  well 
as  an  emotive  one,  and  it  is  the  former  alone  that  is  distinc- 
tively human.  I  know  how  strong  the  tendency  is,  in  these 
sentimental  dallying  days  of  ours,  to  lay  stress  upon  emotion, 
and  all  forms  of  passivity,  to  the  detriment  of  intelligence, 
insight,  and  all  forms  of  heroic  activity.  This  is  even  the 
curse  of  our  time.  .  .  .  We  cannot  see  what  is  essential  with- 
out metaphysics.  Without  metaphysics  there  is  no  knowledge 
of  essence,  and  we  float  upon  a  sea  of  unanalyzed  sentiment 
and  unrecognized  tradition,  without  helm  or  compass.  .  .  ." 

On  February  18,  1884,  he  wrote  from  Rome  that  "to  con- 
found the  eternal  with  the  phenomenal  is  to  me  the  worst 
of  heresies." 

Some  reminiscences  of  his  friend  furnished  by  Mr.  Havelock 
Ellis  follow  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

REMINISCENCES  BY  HAVELOCK  ELLIS 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  1883,  when  I  was  a  medical  student, 
that  my  friend  Percival  Chubb  spoke  to  me  with  enthusiasm 
of  the  approaching  visit  to  London  of  one  Thomas  Davidson, 
who  had  just  published  a  book  containing  anew  interpretation 
of  the  Parthenon,  and  was  now  arriving  from  Italy  where  he 
had  been  spending  the  summer  in  a  house  he  had  taken  in 
Capri.  A  little  while  before,  Chubb  had  spent  some  time 
with  Davidson,  and  at  this  period  regarded  him  as  destined  to 
become  the  moral  regenerator  of  the  modern  world.  It  ap- 
peared that  Davidson  was  willing  —  even  eager  —  to  gather 
around  him  a  few  young  men  in  London,  and  to  expound  his 
ideas  of  "  the  new  life."  I  soon  met  him  at  Chubb's  rooms,  and 
this  proved  the  first  of  a  series  of  meetings  at  which  David- 
son met  various  young  men,  —  seldom  more  than  one  or  two 
at  a  time,  —  many  of  whom  afterwards  became  better  known. 
Davidson  was  most  at  his  ease  in  the  presence  of  two  or  three 
young  men  whose  attitude  he  believed  to  be  sympathetic  and 
receptive,  and  to  whom  he  could  set  forth  his  views  with  a 
chance  of  finding  active  and  intelligent  disciples.  His  doc- 
trine—  at  this  time  at  all  events  —  may  be  stated  in  a  few 
words,  as  the  absolute  necessity  of  founding  practical  life  on 
philosophical  conceptions ;  of  living  a  simple,  strenuous,  in- 
tellectual life,  so  far  as  possible  communistically,  and  on  a 
basis  of  natural  religion.  It  was  Rosminianism,  one  may  say, 
carried  a  step  further.  He  appeared  to  advantage  on  these 
occasions;  his  vivid  personality,  his  intense  earnestness,  re- 
strained eloquence,  and  personal  magnetism  were  all  brought  to 
the  service  of  his  convictions  concerning  the  necessity  for  a 

44 


REMINISCENCES  BY  HAVELOCK  ELLIS 


45 


metaphysical  basis  to  life.  I  use  the  word  "conviction"  delib- 
erately. At  bottom  he,  consciously  and  avowedly,  based  his 
metaphysical  theory  on  an  emotional  conviction;  and  I  still 
recall  the  fervor  with  which  he  would  solemnly  assure  us 
that  the  universe  answered  to  his  description  of  it. 

It  was  on  his  conviction,  not  on  his  knowledge,  that  David- 
son asked  us  to  rely.  Of  his  learning  he  never  made  any 
parade ;  and  I  do  not  think  it  even  occurred  to  me,  at  that 
time,  that  he  possessed  any  unusual  degree  of  learning.  I 
noticed,  indeed,  that  he  was  always  interested  in  every  subject 
I  chanced  to  bring  before  him.  I  was  at  that  time  giving  much 
attention  to  the  writings,  published  and  unpublished,  of  James 
Hinton  ;  he  was  also  interested  in  Hinton,  and  anxious  to  read 
a  paper  I  had  written  on  him,  a  paper  which  he  pronounced 
—  and  I  am  not  sure  that  there  was  not  here  a  touch  of  depre- 
cation—  "very  judicial."  I  chanced  to  refer  to  my  friend 
and  neighbor  Roden  Noel.  "  I  am  always  hearing  about  Roden 
Noel,"  he  said ;  "  tell  me  about  Roden  Noel."  Again,  I  had 
made  an  analysis  of  In  Memoriam  a  few  years  previously. 
That  poem,  he  declared,  had  been  a  profound  study  of  his 
own ;  and  contained,  indeed,  the  whole  of  his  philosophy.  It 
so  happened  that  William  Morris  was  coming  to  read  portions 
of  his  Sigurd  at  one  of  the  meetings  of  a  sort  of  ethical 
society,  in  which  I  was  interested.  Davidson  admired  Morris, 
and  we  asked  him  to  preside  at  the  meeting.  I  well  remem- 
ber the  characteristically  earnest  and  fervid  way  in  which 
Davidson  told  how  he  had  first  read  Morris's  Earthly  Paradise 
in  a  remote  district  of  America ;  and  the  singular  impressive- 
ness  of  an  incidental  but  very  characteristic  passage,  in  his 
remarks  concerning  the  depths  of  misery  to  which  he  has 
sunk  who  has  become  "aweary  of  the  sun."  There  was  no 
affectation  in  this ;  it  was  merely  an  aspect  of  Davidson's  eager, 
devouring  interest  in  all  the  manifestations  of  life.  I  failed 
then  to  realize  that  had  my  own  interests  been  different,  or 
wider,  I  should  still  have  found  Davidson  equally  well-informed, 
and  equally  anxious  to  learn  more. 


46  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

Doubtless  he  was  not  a  scholar  in  the  scientific  sense  of 
the  term.  He  recalls,  rather,  those  men  of  the  Renaissance 
of  whom  Giordano  Bruno  was  the  supreme  type,  wandering 
philosophers  who  spent  their  lives  in  going  from  one  great 
center  of  thought  to  another,  devoured  by  intellectual  passion, 
equally  eager  to  learn  and  to  teach.  .  .  . 

I  met  him  at  a  later  date  when  passing  through  London  on 
one  of  his  mysterious  missions,  this  time  to  Constantinople ; 
and  I  remained  associated  with  the  Fellowship  of  the  New 
Life,  —  a  movement  for  putting  social  life  so  far  as  possible 
on  an  ethical  basis,  —  which  had  grown  out  of  Davidson's 
meetings  with  young  men  already  mentioned.  From  the 
Fellowship  of  the  New  Life  there  split  off,  soon  after  David- 
son left  London,  —  as  an  attempt  to  be  more  practical,  and 
more  definitely  socialistic,  —  the  Fabian  Society,  which  was 
destined  to  have  a  much  more  vigorous  public  life  than  the 
smaller  parent  association.  There  was  no  antagonism  between 
the  two  societies,  but  with  the  Fabian  Society  Davidson  him- 
self had  little  or  no  sympathy,  although  he  was,  indirectly,  the 
founder  of  it. 

He  failed  to  make  me  a  disciple,  but  he  taught  me  a  lesson 
I  have  never  since  unlearned.  Before  I  met  him  I  thought 
that  philosophical  beliefs  could  be  imparted,  and  shared ;  that 
men  could,  as  it  were,  live  under  the  same  metaphysical  dome. 
Davidson  enabled  me  to  see  that  a  man's  metaphysics,  if  gen- 
uinely his,  is  really  a  most  intimate  part  of  his  own  personal 
temperament ;  and  that  no  one  can  really  identify  himself  with 
another's  philosophy,  however  greatly  he  may  admire  it,  or 
sympathize  with  it.  This  was  a  valuable  lesson  to  learn, 
though  it  was  not  the  lesson  that  Davidson  desired  to  teach. 

Davidson  was  never  able  to  estimate  accurately  the  inherent 
obstacles  to  the  progress  of  his  own  schemes,  nor  to  realize 
how  they  appeared  to  other  minds.  It  was  thus  inevitable 
that  he  should  meet  with  frequent  disappointments  and  dis- 
illusions, although  his  energetic  temperament  enabled  him  to 


REMINISCENCES  BY  HAVELOCK  ELLIS  47 

preserve  an  attitude  of  optimism.  I  can  well  believe  — 
though  I  have  no  definite  personal  knowledge  —  that  this 
characteristic  of  his  sanguine  temperament  sometimes  led  to 
misadventures.  But,  while  he  was  never  accurately  adjusted 
to  his  environment,  and  constantly  liable  either  to  shock  or 
to  be  shocked  by  it,  he  had  no  deliberate  love  of  freedom. 
When  he  startled  the  peaceful  school  of  philosophy  at  Con- 
cord by  his  comparison  of  the  irony  of  Zola  to  the  irony  of 
Christ,  he  was  himself  surprised  at  the  commotion  he  pro- 
duced. He  probably  conceived  that  he  was  giving  expression 
to  an  obvious  verity. 

It  was  as  a  personal  force,  rather  than  as  a  profound  intel- 
lect, that  Davidson  made  his  mark  on  his  time.  It  was  this 
temperamental  character  that  gave  a  curious,  almost  unique, 
imprint  to  his  personality.  He  was  well  aware  of  his  own 
emotional  tendencies :  I  remember  that  he  once  referred  to 
the  attraction  that  mysticism  had  for  him,  as  an  attraction 
he  had  to  guard  against.  Many  of  his  characteristics  were 
doubtless  due  to  a  certain  struggle  with  his  own  exuberant 
emotionalism.  His  sense  of  the  immense  importance  of  edu- 
cation, training,  and  discipline,  was  rooted  here.  Doubtless, 
also,  a  certain  formality  in  his  literary  work  showed  that  he 
wished  to  keep  a  curb  on  himself.  But  the  result  was  that 
Davidson  never  reached  self-expression  in  literature.  His 
personality  —  with  that  specially  perfervid  Scottish  quality, 
which  he  possessed  in  so  high  a  degree  —  was  much  more 
potent  than  his  works  indicate.  The  enthusiasm  and  convic- 
tion, with  which  he  advocated  more  or  less  impossible  and 
unfamiliar  ideals,  could  not  fail  to  exert  a  stimulating  influ- 
ence on  all  those  who  came  near  him.  He  helped  to  teach 
those  who  listened  to  him  to  think,  even  though  it  were  to 
think  that  he  was  wrong,  and  to  think  why  he  was  wrong. 
Few  men,  indeed,  of  his  time  were  permitted  to  play  a 
part  so  like  to  that  of  those  early  Greek  philosophers  whom 
he  loved  so  greatly. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   NEW  YORK  BRANCH   OF   THE  NEW 
FELLOWSHIP 

One  of  the  first  things  that  Davidson  did  when  he  reached 
New  York  was  to  found  an  American  "Fellowship  of  the 
New  Life  "  ;  not  exactly  a  branch  of  the  English  society  of 
that  name,  but  one  similar  in  character,  aims,  and  tendency. 
It  was  founded  in  1884,  and  as  its  prospectus  contains  a 
declaration  of  principles,  differing  in  some  points  from  that 
set  down  in  the  London  programme,  it  may  be  reproduced 
with  advantage,  along  with  an  official  statement  on  the  reli- 
gion of  the  Fellowship,  and  a  letter  from  its  founder  concern- 
ing the  "Vita  Nuova." 

I.  Declaration  of  Principles 

Name  and  Domicile 

The  Name  of  the  society  shall  be  The  Fellowship  of  the  New 
Life,  and  its  Domicile  shall  be  wherever  two  or  three  persons  animated 
by  its  spirit  shall  unite  and  meet. 

Spirit 

The  Spirit  of  the  Fellowship,  in  all  its  sayings  and  doings,  shall  be 
intelligent  love,  that  love  which  Jesus  meant  when  he  commanded  his 
disciples  to  love  one  another,  that  love  whereof  the  fruits  are  "joy, 
peace,  long-suffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  faith,  meekness,  temper- 
ance," and  perfect  purity  and  simplicity  of  life. 

Purposes 

The  Purposes  of  the  Fellowship  shall  be  the  cultivation  of  character 
in  the  persons  of  its  members,  and  the  attainment  of  whatever  follows 
from  high  character.  The  ideal  of  character  shall  be  perfect  purity  or 
holiness,   including  perfect  intelligence,  perfect  love   and  freedom  — 

48 


NEW  YORK  BRANCH  OF  NEW  FELLOWSHIP      49 

that  freedom  which  springs  from  perfect  obedience  to  the  divine  laws 
of  the  spirit.  Truth  and  love  alone  shall  have  authority  in  the  Fellow- 
ship, and  in  all  cases  the  material  and  fleshly  shall  be  subordinated  to 
the  spiritual. 

Method 

The  Method  of  the  Fellowship  shall  be  cooperation  for  the  ends  of 
holiness.  Unwilling  to  stand  or  fall  with  the  success  or  failure  of  any 
practical  undertaking,  it  shall  not,  as  a  body,  identify  itself  with  such, 
but  shall  seek  to  remain  a  center  of  religious  life  and  inspiration.  At 
the  same  time,  it  shall  encourage  its  members  to  form,  in  connection 
with  it,  and  in  its  spirit,  societies  which  shall  do  practical  work  in  the 
way  of  lecturing,  teaching,  discussing  and  in  other  ways  aiding  in  the 
elevation  of  all  whom  they  can  reach. 

Branches 

The  Fellowship  may  have  branches  wherever  persons  are  willing  to 
unite  on  the  basis  of  its  spirit,  purpose,  and  method.  Each  branch  shall 
regulate  its  own  affairs. 

II.  The  Religion  of  the  Fellowship  of  the 

New  Life 

The  Fellowship  of  the  New  Life  is  essentially  a  religious 
society,  that  is,  a  society  whose  members  seek  to  order  their  lives  in 
accordance  with  the  Supreme  Will  (by  whatever  name  it  may  be  called 
—  God,  Holiness,  Intelligence,  Love),  in  so  far  as  that  can  in  any  way 
be  ascertained.  Its  religion,  however,  in  contradistinction  to  other 
religions,  is  purely  one  of  attitude  ;  attitude  of  the  whole  human  being, 
mind,  affections,  will.  It  seeks,  through  the  persons  of  its  members,  to 
be  receptive  toward  all  truth,  whatever  its  mediate  source,  responsive 
with  due  love  toward  all  worth,  and  active  toward  all  good.  It  believes 
that  this  triple  attitude  comprises  the  whole  duty  of  man,  and  that  this 
belief  is  at  once  the  all-sufficient  and  unassailable  creed.  For,  surely, 
no  one  can  doubt  that  every  human  being  ought  to  pursue  all  truth,  to 
love  duly  all  that  is  lovable,  and  to  further,  as  far  as  he  may,  all  good. 
And,  again,  the  man  who  did  these  three  things,  would  be  performing 
his  whole  duty  as  a  man.  In  one  word,  it  may  be  said  that  the  religion 
of  the  Fellowship  consists  of  a  determined  endeavor  to  know  well,  to 
love  well,  and  to  do  well. 

In  endeavoring  to  know  well,  the  members  of  the  Fellowship,  far 
from  depending  solely  on  individual  reason  or  experience,  seek  light 


50  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

and  aid  from  every  quarter  ;  from  every  age  and  people  ;  from  religion, 
science,  and  philosophy ;  from  nature  and  art ;  from  reason  and  faith. 
Knowing  that  their  own  mental  and  moral  status,  the  very  conceptions 
by  which  they  interpret  experience,  and  the  thought  by  which  they  unite 
them  into  a  known  world,  as  well  as  the  language  by  which  they  express 
all  this,  are  not  their  own  products,  but  are  the  outcome  of  a  process  of 
mental  unfolding  dating  back  far  beyond  the  dawn  of  recorded  history, 
and  are  to  be  understood  only  through  a  knowledge  of  this  process, 
they  can  look  only  with  pity  upon  those  persons  who,  having  no  com- 
prehensive acquaintance  with  the  history  of  human  conceptions,  rashly 
undertake,  with  their  crude  notions,  to  pronounce  upon  the  great  prob- 
lems of  life  and  mind.  They  are,  therefore,  neither  dogmatists,  skeptics, 
nor  agnostics,  but  reverent  students  of  the  world  of  nature  and  of  mind, 
seeking  to  supplement  their  own  experience  and  conclusions  with  the 
experience  and  conclusions  of  the  serious  men  and  women  of  all  time. 
Inasmuch  as  they  are  not  called  upon  to  accept  any  special  beliefs,  but 
only  to  be  honest  and  circumspect  with  themselves  in  accepting  any 
belief  whatever,  it  follows  that  no  honest  belief  or  unbelief  need  prevent 
any  one  from  being  a  member  of  the  Fellowship.  The  man  who  finds 
cogent  reasons  for  believing  in  the  doctrines  of  transubstantiation  and 
the  immaculate  conception,  and  the  man  who  finds  it  impossible  to 
attach  any  definite  meaning  to  the  word  God,  are  equally  in  their  place 
in  the  Fellowship,  provided  they  are  equally  sincere.  But  sincerity  is 
not  possible  apart  from  a  living  desire  for  ever  deeper  insight,  and  a 
sympathy  with  those  who  sincerely  hold  opinions  different  from  our 
own.  There  is  no  sincerity  in  accepting  or  maintaining  a  belief  that  has 
not  been  tested  to  the  limits  of  our  powers.  The  proper  names  for  such 
acceptance  are  credulity  and  fanaticism.  Knowing  how  often  it  happens 
that  old  and  long-exploded  doctrines  reappear  in  new  forms  and  become 
for  a  time  fashionable,  by  reason  of  popular  ignorance,  the  members  of 
the  Fellowship  are  not  liable  to  be  found  among  the  followers  of  new 
prophets,  or  the  purveyors  of  patent  remedies  for  social  ills.  Their  aim 
is  to  stand  firm  on  a  basis  of  knowledge  amid  the  tumultuous  sea  of 
conflicting  popular  prejudices. 

In  their  endeavor  to  love  well,  the  members  of  the  Fellowship  seek 
to  love  wisely,  —  not  only  to  cultivate  the  power  to  love,  but  to  distrib- 
ute love  in  proportion  to  the  spiritual  worth  of  things.  Just  as  only  a 
feeling,  thinking  being  can  truly  love,  so  only  a  feeling,  thinking  being 
can  properly  be  loved ;  and  the  deeper  and  broader  the  feeling  and 
thought  which  being  has,  the  more  it  is  a  being,  the  more  it  is  capable 
of  loving,  the  more  worthy  to  be  loved.  Mere  indiscriminate  loving, 
vague  philanthropic  sentiment,  and  enthusiasm  for  abstractions,  such  as 


NEW  YORK  BRANCH  OF  NEW  FELLOWSHIP      51 

humanity,  law,  etc.,  it  rejects  as  unprofitable  and  wasteful.  True  love 
is  that  which  seeks  the  highest  good  of  its  object,  and  rejoices  in  that 
good.  It  is  merely  another  name  for  a  desire  to  realize  and  abide  with 
perfection. 

By  doing  good,  the  Fellowship  means  acting  in  accordance  with  the 
best  knowledge  and  the  widest,  most  discriminating  love.  It  is  only 
when  a  man  has  his  head  and  heart  well  trained  that  he  can  act  well. 
Without  a  comprehension  of  the  end  of  all  action,  and  of  the  various 
tendencies  of  different  actions,  he  will  act  blindly  from  prejudice,  pas- 
sion, or  impulse  ;  without  well-regulated  sympathies,  all  his  actions  will 
have  a  wrong  emphasis  and  hence  be  abortive.  Such  wrong  emphasis 
we  see  in  all  those  philanthropic  movements  whose  chief  aim  is  men's 
physical  comfort  and  the  indiscriminate  removal  of  that  powerful  nat- 
ural corrective,  suffering.  With  such  movements  the  Fellowship,  real- 
izing how  beneficial  suffering  may  be,  has  no  sympathy.  Better  to  suffer 
and  be  strong,  than  to  be  comfortable  and  weak.  While  the  Fellowship 
seeks  to  foster  cooperation  for  good  works,  it  hopes  for  its  best  results 
from  individual  character  and  effort.  It  seeks  to  avoid  all  publicity  and 
to  do  its  work  quietly  and  unobtrusively  in  the  hearts  of  men.  It  calls 
upon  each  of  its  members  to  be  a  living  power  for  good,  not  only  in  one 
way  or  in  one  connection,  but  in  all  ways  and  in  all  connections,  in  the 
smallest  things  as  well  as  in  the  greatest.  Its  ultimate  aim  is  the  good 
man  and  the  good  woman,  the  intelligent,  loving,  vigorous  character, 
that  seeks  good  and  good  alone. 

Such  is  the  Religion  of  The  Fellowship  of  the  New  Life,  such 
attitude  its  only  bond  of  union. 


III.  Extract  from  a  Letter  from  Mr.  Davidson 

CONCERNING    THE    NEW    LlFE 

The  way  to  begin  the  New  Life,  I  believe,  is  to  try  to  forget  oneself, 
one's  sorrows,  one's  annoyances  ;  to  count  oneself  happy,  if  he  can  have 
the  approval  of  a  good  conscience  and  the  sense  of  having  furthered 
the  good.  The  New  Life,  as  I  conceive  it,  is  a  new  attitude  of  the 
intelligence,  the  feelings,  the  will  —  a  desire  to  lay  aside  all  prejudice 
and  to  know  the  absolute  truth,  a  wide,  sweet  sympathy,  recoiling  at  no 
sin,  no  suffering,  no  hardness  of  heart,  but  only  at  selfishness  and  mean- 
ness and  lying,  a  firm  resolution  to  do  the  best,  as  far  as  that  is  known, 
in  the  spirit  of  love.  Such  a  life,  /  know,  is  worth  living.  It  is  a  life 
in  which  all  wounds  soon  heal,  and  all  scars  are  but  brands  of  victory 
—  legal  tender  for  future  blessedness. 


52  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

But  the  New  Life  is,  in  its  outward  form,  more  than  this.  It  is  an 
association  for  the  cultivation  of  true  insight,  boundless  sympathy,  and 
devoted  helpfulness.  It  is  the  absence  of  these  that  makes  the  old 
life  so  blind,  so  dreary  and  lonely,  so  unblest.  Every  human  being 
ought  to  be  a  providence  to  every  other,  ready,  as  far  as  his  powers  go, 
to  solve  every  dark  problem,  sympathize  with  every  joy  and  every  sor- 
row, however  deep  and  agonizing,  and  satisfy  every  need.  We  are  still 
living  in  willful  ignorance  of  our  own  nature  and  in  barbarous  isolation 
with  respect  to  each  other.  We  wither  in  silent  pain  because  we  have 
not  confidence  in  each  other.  In  our  agony  we  invent  a  God  to  do  for 
us  what  we  are  too  miserable  and  selfish  to  do  for  each  other.  We  are 
so  sluggish  that  we  try  to  make  a  virtue  of  faith,  instead  of  laboring 
earnestly  to  find  out  and  communicate  the  truth.  We  are  so  selfish  that 
we  allow  our  neighbor  to  suffer,  when  we  have  the  means  to  help  him. 
We  are  so  low  spiritually  that  we  doubt  the  infinite  possibilities  of  being, 
and  sink  down  into  a  contented  or  discontented  materialism.  We  do 
not  rise  to  a  firm  and  abiding  sense  of  our  own  dignity  and  infinite  worth. 
All  this,  I  hope,  will  be  altered  in  the  New  Life,  whether  I  succeed  in 
doing  anything  to  further  it  or  not.  I  have  only  a  clear  insight  as  to 
what  is  necessary  and  a  desire  to  do  the  best  I  can.  I  see  that,  if  ever 
life  is  to  be  again  wholesome  and  inspiring,  we  must  have  a  new  social 
order  and  a  new  education  ;  an  order  in  which  each  shall  feel  the  bur- 
dens of  all,  and  all  of  each  ;  an  education  which  shall  aim  at  producing 
perfect  characters,  rich  in  insight,  in  love,  in  energy,  scorning  selfish- 
ness, impurity,  and  wrong. 

I  see  no  way  in  which  these  things  can  be  reached  but  through  a 
strong,  combined  effort  on  the  part  of  those  that  firmly  and  earnestly 
believe  in  them,  through  a  society,  realizing  in  itself  and  in  the  rela- 
tions between  its  members,  that  ideal  which  it  recognizes  as  the  highest. 
Such  a  society  cannot  be  formed  in  a  day,  nor  by  any  general  vote  or 
resolution.  It  must  be  done  slowly  and  quietly,  through  the  gradual 
formation  of  a  nucleus  of  earnest  men  and  women,  resolved  to  live  a 
noble  life  and  to  make  the  redemption  of  humanity  from  ignorance,  self- 
ishness, and  vice  the  end  of  all  their  efforts,  and  ready  to  search  out 
and  communicate  the  means  whereby  this  may  be  done.  In  the  great 
work  we  need  association,  with  division  of  labor.  There  must  be  some 
to  discover  principles,  others  to  apply  them  ;  some  to  teach,  others  to 
labor  with  their  hands.  What  we  can  do  at  present  is  to  keep  these  ends 
steadily  in  view  and  try  to  make  them  clear  to  others  ;  to  interest  other 
people  in  them  and  to  form  little  societies  for  the  study  of  the  highest 
things,  for  religious  sympathy,  for  mutual  aid.  All  this  we  can  do  now 
—  to-day  —  before  to-morrow. 


NEW  YORK  BRANCH  OF  NEW  FELLOWSHIP      53 

And  what  if  it  be  true  that  all  great  attainment  calls  for  suffering, 
that  such  is  the  law  of  our  being  ?  Shall  we  slink  back  and  tremble, 
and  drug  ourselves,  like  craven  cowards  ?  Never  !  The  pure  metal 
rings  when  it  is  struck,  and  the  true  soul  finds  itself  and  its  own  nobil- 
ity often  only  in  the  throbs  of  pain  and  utter  self-sacrifice.  One  true 
act  of  will  makes  us  feel  our  immortality :  alas !  that  we  so  seldom  per- 
form an  act  of  will.  In  the  face  of  an  act  of  real  will,  heredity  counts 
as  nothing.  What  makes  heredity  tell  is  our  own  cowardice  and  slug- 
gishness in  not  forcing  children  to  conquer  it,  and  also  in  not  conquer- 
ing it  in  ourselves.  Heredity,  like  corruption,  acts  only  when  the  soul 
is  gone.  It  is  utterly  debasing  to  be  bullied  by  heredity.  The  belief  in 
its  power  "  shuts  the  eyes  and  folds  the  hands,"  and  delivers  the  soul  in 
chains  to  the  demon  of  unreality.  The  reason  why  people  doubt  about 
the  freedom  of  the  will  is  because  they  never  exercise  it,  but  are  always 
following  some  feeling  or  instinct,  some  private  taste  or  affection.  How 
should  such  persons  know  that  the  will  is  free  ?  Our  time  is  dying  of 
sentimentality  —  some  of  it  refined  enough,  to  be  sure,  but  sentimentality 
—  which  destroys  the  will. 

We  are  on  our  way  to  all  that  heart  ever  wished  or  head  conceived. 
But  the  greater  gods  have  no  sympathy  with  anything  but  heroism. 
When  we  will  not  be  heroic  they  sternly  fling  us  back  to  suffer,  say- 
ing to  us :  Learn  to  will !  The  kiss  of  the  Valkyre,  which  opens  the 
gates  of  Valhalla,  is  sealed  only  upon  lips  made  holy  by  heroism  even 
unto  death. 

The  hosts  of  Ahura-Mazda  are  still  fighting,  and  woe  to  us  if 
we  do  not  join  them !  It  is  the  custom  among  the  wise  men  of  the 
world  to  laugh  at  all  great  heroism,  all  thirst  for  self-sacrifice  ;  but 
we  can  afford  to  let  them  laugh.  Somewhere  in  the  shadow  there  are 
spectators  who  laugh  at  them,  and  will  laugh  when  these  have  lost 
the  will  to  laugh.  The  sons  of  Ahura-Mazda  laugh  forever,  and  there 
is  no  uneasiness  in  their  laughter.  Their  laugh  is  the  beauty  of  the 
universe. 

But  this  will,  perhaps,  weary  you  and  seem  mere  poetry  to  you. 
Poetry  it  is ;  but,  as  Aristotle  said  long  ago,  "  Poetry  is  more  earnest 
and  more  philosophical  than  history."  The  true  poetry  of  the  world 
is  the  history  of  its  spiritual  life,  and  is  as  much  truer  than  what  is 
called  history  as  spirit  is  truer  than  outward  seeming.  When  shall  we 
learn  this? 

Several  societies  for  study,  instructions,  and  practical  work 
in  connection  with  the  Fellowship  were  soon  organized,  and 
series  of  lectures  arranged. 


54  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

The  prospectus  of  the  seventh  year  gives  a  list  of  papers 
read,  followed  by  discussion  on  "Theories  of  Ethics."  Seven 
were  devoted  to  ancient  ethics,  two  to  mediaeval,  and  sixteen 
to  modern  ethics.  That  of  the  eighth  year  gives  a  list  of 
twenty-five  addresses  and  discussions  on  the  "  History  and 
Science  of  Religion." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  SUMMER  SCHOOLS  AT  FARMINGTON  AND 

GLENMORE 

To  carry  out  the  idea  of  summer  study  —  in  philosophy, 
literature,  sociology,  and  religion  —  away  from  the  turmoil 
and  distractions  of  city  life,  Mr.  Davidson  selected  the  small 
New  England  town  of  Farmington,  where  he  gathered  together 
a  few  friends  in  the  year  1888. 

Farmington  is  thus  described  in  the  prospectus  which  he 
issued  at  New  York  : 

Farmington 

Farmington  is  a  quaint,  old,  shady  New  England  town,  overlooking 
the  Farmington  and  Pequabuck  rivers,  and  affording  beautiful  and  ex- 
tensive views  in  many  directions.  It  is  on  the  New  Haven  and  Northamp- 
ton Railroad,  about  30  miles  from  New  Haven,  46  from  Northampton, 
and  10  from  Hartford.  The  town  is  about  two  miles  from  the  station. 
The  rugged  hills  and  broad  valleys  about  Farmington  afford  excellent 
opportunities  for  pleasant  walks,  rides,  and  drives,  while  the  rivers  are 
very  convenient  for  bathing  and  boating. 

The  following  is  the  prospectus  for  the  third  year  (1890). 
The  experiment  lasted  for  three  years.  In  1891  it  was 
absorbed  in  the  school  at  Glenmore. 

Farmington  Lectures  on  Philosophy  and  Ethics 

1890  (third  year) 

The  First  Morning  Course  will  be  devoted  to  the  Philosophy  of 
the  late  Professor  T.  H.  Green.    This  philosophy  takes  a  bold  stand 
against  the  agnosticism  and  materialism  of  the  time,  seeking  to  show 
their  inconsistency  and  insufficiency,  and  to  replace  them  by  a  doctrine 
of  reason  and  spirit,  offering  a  solid  basis  for  religion  and  ethics. 

The  Second  Morning  Course  will  treat  of  Functions  of  a  Church 
and  its  Relation  to  the  State.    The  six  lectures  will  be  given  by  six 

55 


56  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

different  persons  representing  as  many  different  views,  and  will  form  a 
kind  of  symposium. 

The  First  Evening  Course  will  be  devoted  to  the  Greek  Moralists, 
— (i)  ^Eschylus,  (2)  Socrates,  (3)  Plato,  (4)  Aristotle, — and  will  attempt 
to  show  how  the  Greeks  gradually  rose  from  the  conception  of  a  life 
governed  by  external  fate  and  authority  to  that  of  a  life  guided  by 
internal  insight. 

The  Second  Evening  Course  will  deal  with  Some  of  the  Primary 
Concepts  of  Economic  Science,  —  (1)  Wealth,  (2)  Value,  (3)  Property, 
(4)  Land,  (5)  Labor,  (6)  Capital,  —  and  will  aim  at  clearing  these  of 
the  vagueness  which  at  present  attaches  to  them,  and  showing  that 
they  involve  a  recognition  of  man's  moral  nature.  It  will  follow  from 
this  that  economics  cannot  be  divorced  from  ethics. 

After  each  lecture  an  opportunity  will  be  given  for  free  discussion 
in  which  it  is  hoped  that  all  persons  present  will  take  part. 


Morning  Courses 
I.   The  Philosophy  of  T.  H.  Green 

June  17.  Green's  Theory  of  Cognition  and  its  place  in  the  History  of 
Thought.    By  Thomas  Davidson  of  New  York. 

June  18.  Green's  Treatment  of  the  Relation  of  Feeling  to  Reality. 
By  H.  N.  Gardiner,  Professor  of  Philosophy  in  Smith 
College,  Northampton,  Massachusetts. 

June  19.  Green's  Ethical  System.  By  Stephen  F.  Weston  of  New 
York. 

June  20.  Green's  Ethical  System  viewed  in  its  Relation  to  Utilitarian- 
ism. By  W.  Douw  Lighthall,  B.C.L.,  of  Montreal,  Canada, 
author  of  The  Young  Seigneur,  Sketch  of  a  New  Utili- 
tarianism. 

June  23.  Green's  Political  Theory.  By  Percival  Chubb  of  London, 
England. 

June  24.  Green's  Religious  Philosophy.  By  John  Dewey,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  Ethics,  History  of  Philosophy,  and  Logic  in  the 
University  of  Michigan,  author  of  Psychology,  etc. 

II.   The  Relations  of  Church  and  State 

June  25.  The  Politico-Philosophical  View.  By  Professor  John  Dewey, 
Ph.D. 


THE  SUMMER  SCHOOLS 


57 


June  26.    The  Free-Religious  View.    By  Reverend  W.  J.  Potter,  D.D., 

of  New  Bedford,  Massachusetts. 
June  27.    The  Historical-Philosophical  View.    By  W.  T.  Harris,  LL.D., 

Commissioner  of  Education,  Washington,  D.C.    Editor  of 

the  Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy,  etc. 
June  30.    The  Humanitarian  View.    By  H.  D.  Lloyd  of  Chicago,  author 

of  The  New  Conscience,  etc. 
July      1.    The  Scholastic  or  Roman  Catholic  View.    By  Brother  Agarias 

of  the  Brothers  of  the  Christian  Schools,  New  York,  author 

of  The  Culture  of  the  Spiritual  Sense,  etc. 
July     2.    The  Unitarian  View.  By  the  Reverend  A.  N.  Alcott,  of  Elgin, 

Illinois. 


Evening  Courses 

I.   The  Greek  Moralists 

(By  Thomas  Davids 011) 

June  17.    ^Eschylus.    The  Ethical  Interpretation  of  Mythology. 

June  18.   /Eschylus.    Ethical   Theory.      Man's    Relations   to   Family, 

Society,  State,  and  God. 
June  19.    Socrates.    The  Relation  of  Intelligence  to  Moral  Freedom. 
June  20.    Plato.    The    State    as    the    Embodiment    of    Reason    and 

Justice. 
June  23.    Aristotle.    The  Good.    The  Golden  Mean.    The  Ideal  Life. 
June  24.   Aristotle.    The  State  as  a  School  for  Life. 


II.   Primary  Concepts  of  Economic  Science 

June  25.  Wealth.    By  Percival  Chubb. 

June  26.  Value.    By  W.  M.  Salter,  Lecturer  to  the  Chicago  Society 

for  Ethical  Culture,  author  of  Ethical  Religion,  etc. 

June  27.  Property.    By  Percival  Chubb. 

June  30.  Land.    By  Stephen  F.  Weston. 

July     1.  Labor.    By  Stephen  F.  Weston. 

July     2.  Capital.    By  W.  M.  Salter. 

During  the  summer  of  1889,  while  the  work  was  going  on 
at  Farmington,  Mr.  Davidson  and  a  few  friends  informally 
visited  the  district  of  the  Adirondacks,  above  and  beyond  the 
village  of  Keene,  in  order  to  prospect  the  locality,  and  see  if 


58  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

it  was  a  more  suitable  place  for  the  formation  of  a  summer 
school  of  study,  than  Farmington  had  been.  In  the  suc- 
ceeding year  (1890)  the  scheme  matured,  although  it  still 
remained  in  a  tentative  state,  and  the  following  prospectus 
was  issued. 

A   Summer  Course  of   Study  in  the 
Adirondacks 

Last  summer  a  small  number  of  persons  gathered  at  Glenmore,  in  the 
Adirondacks,  and  freely  arranged  their  days  in  a  way  which  was  found 
to  yield  at  once  rational  enjoyment,  instruction,  and  physical  exercise. 
The  mornings  were  devoted  to  private  study  and  reading,  the  after- 
noons to  exercise  —  walking,  driving,  mountain  climbing,  tree  felling, 
etc.,  and  the  evenings  either  to  the  discussion  of  some  important  work 
upon  philosophy,  art,  ethics,  or  religion,  or  to  music.  Many  of  these 
evenings  were  spent  round  a  camp  fire.  Among  the  works  thus  dis- 
cussed in  whole  or  in  part  were  : 

(1)  Aristotle's  Nicomachean  Ethics. 

(2)  Professor  Robertson  Smith's  Prophets  of  Israel. 

(3)  Professor  Drummond's  Philo-Judceus,  or  the  Jewish  Alexandrian 
Philosophy,  in  its  Development  and  Completion. 

(4)  Goethe's  Faust  (three  lectures). 

(5)  St.  Bonaventura's  SouVs  Progress  in  God. 

(6)  T.  H.  Green's  Prolegomena  to  Ethics. 

(7)  Mr.  Edward  Carpenter's  England's  Ideal. 

(8)  Mr.  W.  M.  Salter's  Ethical  Religion. 

The  advantages  of  spending  the  summer  in  this  way  were  so  great 
that  it  has  been  proposed  this  year  to  extend  them  to  a  larger  number 
of  persons,  that  is,  to  offer  them  to  all  serious  students,  and  particu- 
larly to  teachers,  who  may  desire  to  pass  an  agreeable  and  profitable 
summer  at  a  very  moderate  expense.  The  instruction  will  consist  of 
private  aid  to  study,  and  of  lectures.  The  former  will  be  given  in  the 
forenoon,  or  during  walks  in  the  afternoon  ;  the  latter  on  four  even- 
ings in  the  week,  and  on  Sunday  morning.  Three  evenings  a  week  — 
Wednesday,  Saturday,  and  Sunday — will  be  devoted  to  music  and 
conversation.  For  the  present  the  subjects  of  study  will  be  limited  to 
what,  in  contradistinction  to  the  natural  sciences,  may  be  called  the 
culture  sciences  —  philosophy,  religion,  ethics,  economics,  politics, 
art,  language,  and  literature  —  and  their  history.  The  choice  to  be 
made  this  year  among  these  will,  in  large  degree,  depend  upon  the 


THE  SUMMER  SCHOOLS  59 

wishes  of  intending  students  and  the  capacity  of  obtainable  instructors. 
It  will  materially  aid  the  directors  in  making  out  their  programme 
if  intending  students  will  communicate  their  preferences  to  the  secretary 
as  soon  as  possible. 

Provision  has  already  been  made  for  instruction  in  the  theory  and 
history  of  philosophy,  religion,  ethics,  economics,  politics,  art  (Greek 
sculpture  and  piano  music),  language  (comparative  philology,  Greek, 
ancient  and  modern,  Latin,  Italian,  French,  German,  Anglo-Saxon,  and 
Old  Norse),  and  literature  (Homer,  ^Eschylus,  Sophocles,  Lucretius, 
Dante,  Shakespeare,  Goethe,  and  the  English  writers  of  this  century). 

The  summer  course  will  be  divided  into  two  parts,  one  covering 
July  and  August,  the  other  September  and  October.  The  fees  for 
instruction  and  lectures  will  be  low,  but  must  depend  somewhat  upon 
the  numbers  who  attend.  About  April  a  detailed  programme  will  ap- 
pear, giving  all  necessary  particulars  in  regard  to  instruction,  accom- 
modation, travelling,  camping  out,  etc.  Meanwhile  persons  desiring 
further  information  are  requested  to  communicate  with  Thomas  David- 
son, 239  West  105th  Street,  New  York. 

Glenmore 

Glenmore  is  a  farm  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-six  acres,  on  East  Hill, 
in  the  north  end  of  Keene  valley.  It  lies  in  the  wilderness,  on  the 
foothills  of  Mount  Hurricane,  about  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea 
level.  Of  its  very  uneven  surface  two  thirds  are  covered  with  forest, 
while  one  is  under  cultivation.  The  farm  is  traversed  by  a  large  trout 
brook  of  the  most  picturesque  kind,  and  is  remarkable  for  the  number 
of  cold  springs  which  water  it.  The  neighborhood  offers  every  oppor- 
tunity for  healthy  exercise  of  all  sorts.  The  scenery  of  the  whole 
region  is  grand,  and  much  of  it  can  be  enjoyed  from  different  points  of 
the  farm.  The  air  is  pure  and  bracing  and  the  heat  moderate.  Mos- 
quitoes are  rare.  Altogether,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  a  more 
delightful  summer  retreat. 

I  have  seen  the  prospectuses  for  the  seasons  1890,  1891, 
1892,  1893,  and  1894.  It  is  unnecessary  to  extract  anything 
from  them  except  a  portion  of  the  statement  issued  for  ses- 
sions 1 89 1  and  1892,  the  lists  of  "Lectures  and  Interpreta- 
tions "  (as  they  were  called)  by  Mr.  Davidson.  The  latter 
may  be  useful  to  many  a  lecturer  of  the  future ;  they  are 
therefore  included  in  the  appendix  to  this  volume. 


60  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

Glenmore  School 

The  subject  of  culture  is  man's  spiritual  nature,  his  intelligence,  his 
affections,  his  will,  and  the  modes  in  which  these  express  themselves. 
This   culture   includes   a  history,   a  theory,  and  a  practice,  a  certain 
familiarity  with  which  must  be  acquired  by  every  person  who  seriously 
desires  to  know  his  relations  to  the  world  and   to  perform  his  part 
worthily  in  those  relations.    The  aim  of  the  school,  therefore,  will  be 
twofold,  —  (i)  scientific,  (2)  practical.    The  former  it  will  seek  to  reach 
by  means  of  lectures  on  the  general  outlines  of  the  history  and  theory 
of   the  various   culture   sciences,  and   by  classes,   conversations,  and 
carefully  directed  private  study  in  regard  to  their  details.    The  latter 
it  will  endeavor  to  realize  by  encouraging  its  members  to  conduct  their 
life  in  accordance  with  the  highest  ascertainable  ethical  laws,  to  strive 
after  "plain  living  and  high  thinking,"  to  discipline  themselves  in  sim- 
plicity, kindliness,  thoughtfulness,  helpfulness,  regularity,  and  promptness. 
In  the  life  at  Glenmore  an  endeavor  will  be  made  to  combine  solid 
study  and  serious  conversation  with  reinvigorating  rest  and  abundant 
and  delightful  exercise.    It  is  hoped  that  this  may  become  a  place  of 
annual  gathering   for  open-minded  persons    interested   in    the    serious 
things  of  life,  so  that,  being  thrown  together  in  an  informal  way,  they 
may  be  able  to  exchange  views  and  initiate  sympathies  better  than  in 
the  class  room  or  at  the  hurried  annual  meeting.    The  retirement  and 
quiet  of  Glenmore  seem  especially  favorable  for  such  things,  and  the 
numerous  picnics  and  evening  bonfires  in  the  woods  offer  provision  for 
the  lighter  moods.    Last  year  two  plays  were  acted  by  members  of  the 
school,  and  it  is  hoped  that  a  Greek  play  may  be  brought  out  this  year. 
The  members  of  the  school  will  have  access  to  a  large,  well-selected 
library.    Every  meal  at  Glenmore  will  be  opened  with  a  few  minutes' 
reading. 

In  the  Scottish  Review  for  January,  1892,  there  is  an 
article  by  Professor  John  Murray  of  Montreal,  entitled  "  A 
Summer  School  of  Philosophy,"  which  gives  an  interesting 
account  of  the  work  at  Glenmore.  The  first  summer  school, 
which  was  an  American  invention,  was  held  at  Concord, 
in  Massachusetts,  where  the  editor  of  the  Jotirnal  of  Specula- 
tive Philosophy,  Mr.  Harris,  now  the  United  States  Minister 
of  Education,  took  an  active  part,  along  with  Thomas  David- 
son and  others.    It  was  pioneer  work,  and  its  success  led 


THE  SUMMER  SCHOOLS  6 1 

Davidson  to  attempt  a  somewhat  similar  school  at  Farmington, 
in  Connecticut.  For  several  reasons  the  second  experiment 
did  not  succeed  so  well ;  and  a  third  was  started,  and  carried 
on  with  fresh  missionary  zeal  by  its  founder,  at  Glenmore,  in 
the  Adirondacks.  Glenmore  is  some  twenty  miles  west  of 
Westport,  on  Lake  Champlain,  and  two  thousand  feet  above 
the  sea  level,  at  the  northern  end  of  the  Keene  valley.  The 
attractions  of  the  scenery  were  great,  hill  and  dale,  field  and 
forest  intermingled.  The  original  farmhouse  of  Glenmore 
was  bought,  with  extensive  acreage  around,  and  additional 
wooden  cottage  buildings  were  put  up,  while  some  of  the 
students  camped  out  in  tents.  Interesting  descriptions  of  the 
place  and  its  attractions  are  given  by  some  of  the  students 
in  these  pages  (see  Chapters  XI  and  XII).  The  teaching  ses- 
sion lasted  only  for  the  two  months  of  July  and  August,  but 
arrangements  could  be  made  for  earlier  or  later  residence.  It 
was  a  home  of  simple  living,  assiduous  study,  and  bright  fellow- 
ship. There  was  a  morning  call  by  horn  at  half-past  seven, 
breakfast  at  eight  o'clock,  preceded  by  two  or  three  minutes' 
reading  by  the  dean.  Lectures  began  at  half-past  nine.  Two 
were  given  in  the  forenoon  and  one  in  the  evening,  each  fol- 
lowed by  half  an  hour's  familiar  discussion  of  the  question 
that  had  been  raised.  The  subjects  of  lecture  were  various ; 
for  example,  Aristotle's  Metaphysics  and  Politics,  Hegel's 
Philosophy  of  Spirit,  The  Comparative  History  of  Religion, 
Spenser's  Faerie  Queene,  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam,  The 
Psychology,  the  Ethics,  and  the  Metaphysics  of  the  Will.  In 
the  lecture  room  the  following  device  was  inscribed  on  the 
wall  :  "Avev  (j)i\(ov  ouSel?  eXoir  av  £fjv,  e%a>v  ra  \onra  ayada 
irdvTd  (Nic.  Eth.,  VIII,  i)  (Without  friends  no  one  would 
choose  to  live,  even  with  all  other  good  things).  Perhaps  the 
chief  characteristic  of  the  teaching  given  in  this  school  was 
the  thorough  discussion  of  the  great  books  themselves  —  the 
books  that  were  referred  to  and  commented  on,  not  the  mere 
reading  of  a  written  commentary  upon  them.    There  were 


62  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

conversational  lessons  in  French,  German,  and  Italian.  Then 
there  were  afternoon  walks,  Saturday  rambles,  and  evening 
concerts.  There  was  no  pedantry  of  any  kind.  Unconven- 
tionality  reigned.  Students  dressed  in  easy  summer  attire. 
There  was  no  display  and  no  flirtation.  The  stimulus  of 
the  life  of  the  place  was  immense. 

One  of  his  student  friends  at  Glenmore  writes  to  me  : 

"When  I  first  met  Thomas  Davidson  he  was  interested 
in  the  Nationalist  movement,  a  kind  of  socialism  that  had 
arisen  from  the  publication  of  Bellamy's  Looking  Backward. 
He  left  it  immediately  afterwards,  because  his  name  had  been 
published  with  regard  to  some  action  in  connection  with  it, 
without  his  being  consulted  ;  and  he  afterwards  became  antag- 
onistic to  every  form  of  socialism,  considering  that  it  was  a 
return  to  militarism,  and  subversive  of  true  liberty  of  the 
individual.  .   .  . 

There  were  inconsistencies  in  his  likes  and  dislikes ;  e.g.  I 
sometimes  wondered  why  he  objected  to  Marcus  Aurelius, 
and  to  Matthew  Arnold.  Kind  as  he  was  to  children,  he  was 
a  stern  disciplinarian  ;  and  nothing  roused  him  more  than  to 
hear  it  said,  '  Poor  child,  let  her  have  a  good  time  ! '  A  time 
of  laziness,  a  do-nothing-ness  was  a  bad  time.  He  occasion- 
ally made  fierce  attacks  on  frivolity  in  conversation  as  indi- 
cating low  aims  in  life,  and  so  unsparing  was  his  censure  of  it 
that  women  students  sometimes  thought  it  scarcely  polite ! " 


CHAPTER  XI 
RECOLLECTIONS  OF  GLENMORE  BY  MARY  FOSTER 

The  work  of  Thomas  Davidson  in  his  Summer  School  of 
the  Culture  Sciences  at  Glenmore  can  best  be  recorded  by 
those  who  were  pupils,  or  comrades,  in  it.  I  therefore  give 
that  record  very  largely  in  the  words  of  those  who  were 
members  of  that  school,  rather  than  weave  their  detached 
reminiscences  together  in  a  restatement  of  my  own.  Two  of 
the  women  students  —  Miss  Mary  Foster  and  Miss  Charlotte 
Daley  —  have  sent  me  extensive  notes  from  which  I  make 
extracts,  Miss  Foster's  notes  being  concerned  more  especially 
with  the  daily  life  at  Glenmore,  and  Miss  Daley's  with  the 
teaching. 

Miss  Foster  spent  four  summers  at  the  school,  and  knew 
most  of  the  people  who  surrounded  Mr.  Davidson  in  these 
years.  From  her  paper,  which  she  calls  "  Mr.  Davidson  and 
the  Life  at  Glenmore,"  I  take  the  following: 

"I  first  met  Mr.  Thomas  Davidson  in  New  York  in  1890, 
and  at  a  meeting  of  the  New  Fellowship  I  made  acquaint- 
ance with  the  friends  who  had  entered  actively  into  his 
endeavors  after  higher  aims  in  life. 

In  the  previous  year  Mr.  Davidson  had  purchased  a  farm 
at  East  Hill,  near  Keene  in  the  Adirondack  Mountains,  and 
a  preliminary  informal  meeting  had  been  held  there  that  sum- 
mer. He  was  now  about  to  go  up  into  the  mountains  to 
prepare  the  camp,  which  he  had  named  «  Glenmore,'  for  a 
more  formal  gathering  of  students  ;  and  with  this  in  view 
the  members  of  the  Fellowship  presented  him  with  a  large 
tent,  for  use  until  additional  buildings  should  be  put  up  and 

63 


64  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

made  available  for  such  guests  as  desired  outdoor  life  during 
their  sojourn. 

It  was  an  interesting  experience  to  come  into  contact  with 
this  group  of  people  and  their  remarkable  leader,  devoted 
as  they  all  felt  themselves  to  be  to  high  social  and  intellec- 
tual ideals.  Their  hope  was  by  individual  effort  to  promote 
simplicity  of  life,  together  with  a  sincere  pursuit  of  truth, 
and  by  association  to  increase  their  capacity  for  such  work. 
'The  Religion  of  the  Fellowship  consisted,'  they  said,  'of 
a  determined  endeavor  to  know  well,  to  love  well,  and  to 
do  well.' 

Mr.  Davidson  was  in  many  ways  eminently  fitted  to  devise 
and  carry  out  such  a  scheme,  being  endowed  not  only  with  a 
remarkable  personality  but  with  a  power  of  influencing  others 
intellectually  which  I  have  never  seen  equaled. 

I  have  always  felt  that  the  first  year  at  Glenmore  (in  1889) 
must  have  had  a  peculiar  charm  of  its  own,  the  charm  inci- 
dent to  pioneering.  The  community  '  waited  on  itself '  to  a 
much  greater  extent  than  in  later  years,  and  there  seems  to 
have  been  a  very  pleasant  feeling  of  fraternity  among  them. 
The  farmhouse  parlor  had  to  be  used  as  lecture  hall,  dining 
room,  and  general  sitting  room  ;  and  I  think  that  many  of  the 
guests  slept  in  the  barn  on  balsam  boughs.  The  ladies  often 
made  pillows  of  the  balsam  needles,  while  reading  was  going 
on  ;  and  they  all  experimented  in  cooking  and  washing.  In 
the  afternoons  they  united  in  such  undertakings  as  deepening 
the  bathing  basin  in  the  brook,  cutting  through  the  fallen 
trunks  on  the  Hurricane  trail,  and  clearing  certain  spots  in 
the  woods  of  old  stumps  and  underbrush  so  that  social  gather- 
ings could  be  held,  or  tents  erected  there.  There  was  also 
the  whole  surrounding  region  to  be  explored,  and  choice  spots 
were  to  be  discovered  and  opened  out. 

Many  of  the  evenings  were  spent  round  a  camp  fire,  and 
works  on  Philosophy,  Art,  Ethics,  and  Religion  were  freely  dis- 
cussed.   Other  evenings  were  devoted  to  music,  or  recitation; 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  GLENMORE  65 

and  all  the  proceedings  were  on  a  less  formal  scale  than 
was  necessary  later  on,  when  the  number  of  students  had 
increased. 

It  was  in  the  third  year  of  the  work  at  Glenmore  that  I 
paid  my  first  visit  to  the  place.  I  went  up  the  Hudson  by 
boat,  then  by  train  from  Albany  to  Westport  on  Lake  Cham- 
plain  ;  thence  a  drive  of  about  twenty  miles  carried  me  into 
the  heart  of  the  mountains,  through  lanes  thick  with  flowers 
and  ferns,  to  the  hearty  greeting  awaiting  me  at  Glenmore. 

The  only  buildings  at  first  noticeable  were  the  log  farm- 
house, a  plain  modern  building  opposite,  —  which  was  the 
dining  hall,  with  four  bedrooms  over  it,  built  in  1890, —  and 
an  old  barn.  Some  friends,  who  were  lodging  in  the  farm- 
house, received  me,  while  a  servant  blew  a  horn  ;  upon  which 
Mr.  Davidson  descended  the  hundred  and  twenty  foot  decliv- 
ity, from  his  abode  in  higher  regions,  to  add  his  warm  wel- 
come. I  was  immediately  invited  to  ascend  the  hill  to  the 
lecture  hall ;  this  could  be  done  by  the  steep  face  of  the  cliff, 
or  partly  by  the  road  leading  to  the  trail  up  Mount  Hurricane. 
One  thus  reached  a  level  open  space,  in  the  front  of  which, 
and  commanding  a  magnificent  view  of  the  mountain  and 
valley,  the  lecture  hall  had  been  erected  that  spring.  Like  all 
the  other  buildings  it  was  of  wood.  It  contained  a  spacious 
room  having  a  large  open  fireplace,  with  dogs  for  burning 
large  logs,  and  a  brick  chimney.  Behind  this,  on  the  south 
side,  were  two  bedrooms,  and  stairs  ascending  to  Mr.  David- 
son's private  rooms,  which  opened  on  a  large  veranda,  and 
also  to  seven  other  bedrooms  designed  for  the  accommodation 
of  guests.  On  two  sides  of  the  building  there  was  a  wide 
piazza,  where  hammocks  could  be  swung.  From  here,  later 
on,  we  often  watched  the  sunset  clouds  or  the  aurora  borealis, 
and  listened  to  the  boys'  singing  of  college  songs.  A  few 
paces  to  the  south,  in  the  shade  of  the  wood,  was  the  simple 
two-roomed  cottage  in  which  Mr.  Davidson  had  lived  two 
summers  with  Mr.  Percival  Chubb. 


66  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

The  road  by  which  I  had  come  led  immediately  into  the 
woods  clothing  the  ravine  (or  gulf,  as  it  was  called)  and  made 
a  gradual  descent,  crossing  the  stream  below  by  a  picturesque 
bridge ;  then,  doubling  upon  itself,  it  passed  in  front  of  the 
Willey  House,  a  local  hotel,  and  descended  parallel  to  the 
stream,  until  it  reached  the  village  of  Keene  —  the  post  and 
shopping  town —  i  ioo  feet  below. 

Just  above  the  bridge  was  the  meeting  place  of  two 
streams,  and  in  the  main  stream  further  on  was  an  island, 
the  space  round  which  had  been  cleared  of  underwood  and 
fallen  branches.  Here,  under  high  trees  and  among  rugged 
boulders,  with  the  brook  leaping  by  in  a  series  of  small  cas- 
cades, wooden  seats  had  been  constructed,  and  it  was  amid 
such  surroundings  that  festive  gatherings  were  held.  Directly 
above  this  spot  the  bed  of  the  brook  had  been  deepened  so 
that  an  excellent  basin  for  bathing  was  formed.  That  it  was 
not  spacious  enough  to  swim  in  mattered  little,  since  even  in 
the  warmest  weather  the  water,  running  under  trees  all  the 
way  from  its  numerous  sources,  was  of  so  low  a  temperature 
that  no  one  could  remain  in  it  for  many  seconds  at  a  time. 
For  a  quick  plunge,  however,  it  was  most  invigorating  and 
delightful,  and  the  basin  was  a  favorite  resort. 

I  arrived  on  June  26,  and  found  a  fair  number  of  guests 
already  assembled.  Several  ladies  had  built  cottages  for  them- 
selves on  the  estate.  There  were  two  of  these  halfway  up 
the  hill,  between  the  farmhouse  and  the  lecture  room,  and  at 
the  top  of  a  clearing  on  the  north  side  was  a  hut,  afterwards 
owned  by  Dr.  W.  T.  Harris.  Several  more  sprang  up  later 
and  added  much  to  the  picturesqueness  of  the  settlement. 
On  the  margin  of  the  gulf  Mr.  Stephen  Weston's  tent  was 
pitched.  Two  boys  with  their  tutor  occupied  another,  and 
Professor  John  Dewey  had  built  a  house  on  his  own  land  low 
down  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream. 

The  school  opened  on  July  1,  and  lectures  were  given  in 
the  mornings  of  five  days  in  the  week  at  10  and  11. 15  a.m.,  as 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  GLENMORE  67 

well  as  in  the  evenings  at  8  p.m.  Meals  were  served  in  the 
dining  hall,  breakfast  being  at  8  a.m.,  dinner  at  1  p.m.,  and 
supper  at  6  p.m.  Dairy  produce,  eggs,  and  wild  fruit  were 
abundant,  but  meat  was  sometimes  difficult  to  get,  and  by 
many  deemed  unnecessary  in  the  pure,  bracing  air  of  the 
mountains. 

On  the  first  Saturday  —  a  day  when  no  lectures  took  place 
—  there  was  a  housewarming  at  the  lecture  hall.  This  was 
decorated  for  the  occasion,  chiefly  with  various  trailing  species 
of  club-moss  common  in  the  woods,  and  a  bonfire  was  lighted 
outside. 

Mr.  Davidson's  Sunday  lectures  were  on  Tennyson,  Goethe, 
or  Dante.  He  also  gave  some  readings,  and  the  singing  of 
hymns  or  poems  was  arranged  before  the  lecture.  Sometimes 
at  these  Sunday  gatherings  he  would  expound  a  psalm,  or 
other  portion  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures. 

People  staying  at  the  Willey  House,  or  summer  boarders 
at  any  of  the  neighboring  farms,  would  also  attend,  so  that 
there  was  quite  a  large  congregation.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
district  were  all  either  Roman  Catholics,  or  Seventh-Day  Bap- 
tists, and  there  were  no  places  of  worship  except  of  these 
denominations.  Even  when  the  school  was  no  longer  in  ses- 
sion, Mr.  Davidson  always  gave  some  teaching  on  Sundays, 
generally  in  the  evenings,  to  the  smaller  audience  that  still 
surrounded  him. 

On  Saturdays,  if  there  was  no  festive  function  at  Glen- 
more,  the  guests  could  arrange  excursions  to  the  lakes,  moun- 
tains, and  waterfalls  of  the  district.  Lake  Placid,  Whiteface 
Mountains,  Ausable  Lake,  John  Brown's  grave,  and  many 
other  places  of  interest  were  within  a  drive ;  and  a  neighbor- 
ing farmer  had  set  up  an  extra  '  team '  to  accommodate  the 
guests  on  these  occasions,  as  well  as  to  fetch  them  to  and  from 
the  station. 

The  walks  in  the  immediate  vicinity  were  also  very 
delightful.     Opposite  Glenmore,  beyond  the  Willey  House, 


68  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

were  two  round-topped  hills,  called  Great  Crow  and  Little 
Crow.  Irreverent  students  of  the  first  year  at  Glenmore  had 
attempted  to  fix  upon  them  the  names  of  Soda  and  Potash, 
much  to  the  disapprobation  of  Mr.  Davidson,  who  suggested 
Ben  More  and  Ben  Ledi.  On  the  edge  of  the  woods  that 
crowned  Little  Crow  was  a  huge  boulder  as  big  as  a  small 
cottage,  with  wooden  steps  by  which  to  ascend  it. 

On  rare  occasions  a  general  walk  or  stroll  would  be  taken, 
with  the  privilege  of  Mr.  Davidson's  company ;  and  it  was 
then  amusing  to  notice  the  behavior  of  his  beautiful  collie, 
named  Dante,  who,  true  to  his  instincts  as  a  shepherd's 
dog,  did  all  he  could  to  keep  the  party  together,  and  objected 
to  their  straying  or  lagging  behind. 

In  these  regions  very  little  wheat  or  barley  is  grown,  but 
buckwheat  and  oats  are  common,  and  on  every  farm  we  saw 
long  rows  of  Indian  corn.  Between  these  rows  pumpkin  vines 
flourished,  and  in  the  autumn  left  their  splendid  golden  balls 
over  the  whole  field. 

The  primeval  forest  still  held  full  sway  on  the  more  remote 
slopes  of  the  hills,  but  near  the  farms  the  younger  growth 
consisted  of  the  paper  birch,  the  common  poplar,  spruce  firs, 
and  the  sweet  balsam  firs.  Pine  trees  were  not  so  common. 
At  the  borders  of  the  woods  there  were  maples  and  other 
soft-wood  trees. 

By  1893  a  new  dining  hall  had  been  built,  and  on  the  walls 
were  hung  many  interesting  pictures,  with  portraits  of  people 
who  had  come  into  contact  with  Mr.  Davidson.  All  these 
perished  in  the  fire  that  destroyed  the  block  of  buildings  a 
few  years  ago. 

It  was  outside  this  building  that  we  assembled  for  the  eight- 
o'clock  breakfast,  and  the  guests  were  not  often  visible  before 
that  hour.  Occasionally  an  early  bather  might  be  seen,  or  those 
few  who  invited  health  by  walking  barefoot  in  the  dew, — 
a  delightful  practice  inaugurated  by  a  German  doctor,  who 
had  been  at  Father  Kneipp's  sanatorium  in  Austria.    In  the 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  GLENMORE  69 

first  years  a  horn,  as  used  on  the  farms  around,  and  later,  a 
bell,  summoned  the  visitors  from  tent,  cottage,  and  lecture 
hall  to  breakfast.  All  meals  were  preceded  by  a  brief  reading 
by  Mr.  Davidson  from  some  work  on  Ethics,  Philosophy,  or 
Religion.  By  8. 30  we  were  away  at  our  studies,  or  tidying  up 
our  dormitories,  until  10  o'clock,  when  the  lecture  began,  often 
with  a  second  at  1 1  o'clock.  Dinner  was  at  1  o'clock,  after 
which  Mr.  Davidson  and  many  of  the  party  took  a  short  rest 
before  engaging  in  further  study,  or  in  the  outdoor  exercises 
of  the  afternoon.  There  were  plenty  of  charming  places  for 
hammocks  among  the  trees,  and  sometimes  private-study 
groups  met  in  the  woods  or  at  some  one's  hut.  Supper  was 
at  6  o'clock,  leaving  more  spare  time,  which  was  often  employed 
in  watching  the  sunset,  and  in  talking  or  singing  until  the 
hour  for  the  evening  lecture.  The  students  were  not  expected 
to  attend  all  the  lectures,  five  a  week  being  the  minimum 
exacted  of  them.  Young  people,  not  sufficiently  advanced  for 
the  courses  in  Philosophy  and  in  the  Culture  Sciences,  were 
expected  to  pursue  other  studies  under  the  tuition  of  some  of 
the  older  members. 

In  the  short  American  summer  evenings  it  was  generally 
dark  when  lectures  were  over,  so  that  lanterns  were  neces- 
sary. Dr.  Mann  proved  himself  a  benefactor  to  the  commun- 
ity by  making  a  better  path  through  the  wood  that  lay  between 
the  lecture  hall  and  the  lane,  and  by  adding  a  railing  at  one 
side.  This  bore  the  inscription  at  the  foot,  •  The  Ascent  of 
Man,'  and  at  the  top,  'The  Descent  of  Man.' 

After  the  session  of  the  school  was  over,  and  while  per- 
haps eight  or  a  dozen  guests  still  lingered  at  Glenmore,  Mr. 
Davidson  would  give  many  delightful  informal  talks  on  mat- 
ters philosophical.  It  is  never  to  be  forgotten  how  in  those 
quieter  times  we  sat  listening  to  his  conversation  at  the  break- 
fast table,  sometimes  for  two  hours  after  that  meal  was  really 
over, — a  delight  that  was  never  ours  when  many  guests 
were  present. 


JO  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

The  delivery  and  the  dispatch  of  letters  were  irregular  at 
Glenmore,  and  few  cared  whether  or  not  they  got  any  news- 
papers. For  our  mail  we  depended  upon  the  convenience 
of  the  neighboring  farmers,  who  frequently  had  errands  to 
Keene ;  or  upon  the  willingness  of  some  guest  to  walk  down 
the  i  ioo  feet  into  the  valley,  and  to  return  through  the  silent 
woods  after  nightfall,  a  weird  and  impressive  experience. 

Saturdays  were,  as  I  have  said,  our  free  days,  and  they 
were  often  devoted  to  long  walks.  A  favorite  excursion  was 
the  ascent  of  Mount  Hurricane,  the  trail  up  which  passed 
through  Glenmore.  There  were  three  miles  of  walking  along 
a  narrow  forest  path  with  occasional  crossings  of  a  rushing 
stream,  till  you  reached  a  height,  often  swathed  in  clouds, 
where  the  lichens  hung  thickly  on  the  trees,  and  the  mosses 
underfoot  were  deep.  At  the  last  spring,  before  leaving  the 
woods  to  ascend  to  the  summit,  we  used  to  stop  to  fill  our 
water  cans.  Then  we  would  emerge  upon  the  open  face  of 
a  mountain  3763  feet  high,  whence  one  of  the  finest  views  in 
the  Adirondacks  is  to  be  obtained.  Toward  the  north  lies 
Canada ;  Lake  Champlain  and  the  hills  of  Vermont  are  to 
the  east ;  while  on  the  south,  and  west,  a  splendid  range  of 
local  mountains  stretches  before  you.  The  botanist  can  enjoy 
the  Alpine  vegetation  which  is  to  be  found  at  this  height, 

Sometimes  a  party  arranged  to  sleep  on  the  summit  of 
Hurricane,  so  as  to  see  both  sunset  and  sunrise.  Blankets 
were  brought  up,  and  the  boys  collected  fir  branches  for  beds, 
and  other  wood  to  keep  a  fire  during  the  night.  There  were 
several  bonfires  each  summer  on  the  island  near  the  bathing 
place  as  an  accompaniment  to  singing  and  other  entertain- 
ment. A  few  concerts  were  also  given  in  the  lecture  hall,  at 
which  the  songs  of  Scotland  were  sung ;  and  occasionally 
Mr.  Davidson  indulged  us  with  his  inimitable  recitations  of 
Scottish  ballads.  One  year  he  gave  a  charming  account  of 
the  life  and  poetry  of  Lady  Nairne,  illustrated  with  music. 
Discussions  were  also  held  on  special  subjects,  such  as  free 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  GLENMORE  71 

will,  socialism,  and  vegetarianism.  It  was  an  interesting  occa- 
sion when  the  boys  at  Glenmore  gave  a  masquerade  in  the 
woods  round  the  spring,  near  which  Mr.  Davidson's  bungalow 
was  afterwards  built. 

Mr.  Davidson  often  entertained,  under  his  own  roof,  friends 
from  Keene  valley  or  the  Willey  House,  as  well  as  the  stu- 
dents at  Glenmore ;  and  there  was  frequent  interchange  of 
courtesies  between  our  camp  and  friends  near  St.  Hubert's, 
Keene  Heights,  twelve  miles  off,  where  many  members  of 
the  '  Ethical  Society '  surrounded  Dr.  Felix  Adler.  They  had 
a  lecture  hall  in  which  Mr.  Davidson  was  in  request,  and  he 
used  to  speak  there  at  least  once  in  the  summer. 

It  was  in  the  early  summer  of  1893  that  Mr.  Davidson's 
bungalow  was  built  in  a  retired  spot  in  the  wood  on  the  other 
side  of  the  trail  from  the  lecture  hall.  It  was  finished  before 
the  school  opened,  and  those  who  were  spending  June  at 
Glenmore  helped  him  to  carry  across  his  extensive  library.  A 
path  less  abrupt  than  the  very  steep  one  to  the  farmhouse 
was  needed,  and  another  one  diverging  from  it  to  the  lecture 
hall.  These  works  were  undertaken  by  some  of  the  residents. 
Trees  were  cut  down,  and  the  path  along  the  sloping  side  of 
the  hill  was  shored  up.  Large  stones  were  found  to  bridge  the 
rivulet  that  trickled  down  by  the  side  of  the  lane,  and  path- 
ways were  soon  made  for  philosophers  to  walk  in. 

An  open  glade  stretches  along  the  crest  of  the  hill  from 
Mr.  Davidson's  bungalow  to  the  east,  and  it  is  on  the  border 
of  this  that  his  body  now  lies  buried.  In  the  autumn  the 
place  is  a  blaze  of  golden-rod,  and  there  is  a  picturesque  rock 
at  the  further  end  where  harmless  snakes  make  their  home. 
Part  of  this  glade  is  very  swampy,  and  at  night  fireflies  may 
be  seen  pursuing  the  small  water  insects  that  rise  from  it. 
The  carriage  way  to  Mr.  Davidson's  house  crossed  this  swamp 
in  an  uncomfortable  and  unsafe  manner  ;  and  it  occurred  to 
the  members -of  the  school  to  build  a  wooden  bridge,  which 
would  not  only  improve  the  road,  but  be  a  pleasant  feature 


72  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

in  the  landscape.  Large  trees  were  felled  by  Mr.  Davidson, 
Dr.  Edward  Moore,  and  others  ;  while  the  ladies  sawed  smaller 
branches  into  lengths  suitable  to  form  crosspieces  in  corduroy 
fashion.  The  railing  on  each  side  was  constructed  in  an  elab- 
orate pattern  of  the  choicest  branches  of  paper  birch  that 
could  be  found,  and  finally  a  Virginia  creeper  was  brought  up 
from  the  valley  to  grow  over  it. 

It  is  not  easy  to  sum  up  the  methods  and  results  of 
Mr.  Davidson's  teaching.  Delightful  as  a  lecturer,  he  was 
even  more  charming  in  conversation.  A  strong  personal  mag- 
netism enabled  him  to  become  a  welcome  vehicle  for  the  con- 
veyance of  truth  and  the  disclosure  of  wisdom. 

In  the  years  1891  to  1895,  when  I  saw  most  of  him,  he 
discoursed  much  on  the  universality  of  Spirit,  and  on  the 
necessity  for  each  individual  to  evolve  an  ordered  world  in  his 
or  her  own  consciousness,  the  ethical  life  depending  on  the 
completeness  and  harmony  of  such  a  world. 

His  aim  in  organizing  a  school  of  philosophy  was  to  impart 
the  instruction  of  which  he  felt  that  the  educated  classes 
stood  so  greatly  in  need ;  and  he  wished  to  do  this  in  healthy 
and  beautiful  surroundings,  under  simple  conditions  of  life. 
He  hoped  that  the  good  of  the  whole  school  would  be  striven 
after  by  each  individual,  and  that  through  mutual  helpfulness, 
and  by  pursuing  work  and  pleasure  together,  an  unselfish 
spirit  would  be  fostered.  He  used  to  refer  to  the  ideal  of 
life  among  the  Greeks,  pointing  out  that  this  implied  the  free 
enjoyment  of  life  apart  from  its  practical  side;  which  included 
such  things  as  earning  a  livelihood,  politics,  education,  and 
religious  observances.  On  the  other  hand  the  ideal  life  was 
a  contemplative  one,  and  was  to  be  distinguished  from  mere 
play  and  amusement ;  there  was  no  phrase  he  objected  to 
more  than  « having  a  good  time.'  All  free  enjoyment  was  to 
be  rational.  It  was  not  easy  to  get  together  many  people  who 
were  able  to  live  up  to  this  ideal ;  and  it  must  be  feared  that 
the  embodiment  of  his  School  of  the  Culture  Sciences  fell  far 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  GLENMORE  73 

short  of  his  conception  of  what  it  should  have  been.  But  it 
is  certain  that,  in  the  course  of  his  busy  life  and  frequent 
travels,  he  came  into  contact  with  many  individuals  who 
derived  much  inspiration  from  his  teaching  and  conversation ; 
and  that  they  were  by  him  imbued  with  a  new,  and  higher, 
conception  of  their  responsibilities  in  life." 


CHAPTER  XII 

CHARLOTTE    DALEY'S    RETROSPECTS    OF    DAVIDSON'S 

TEACHING 

Miss  Charlotte  F.  Daley,  West  New  Brighton,  Richmond 
County,  New  York,  was  a  student-friend  of  Mr.  Davidson, 
and  she  has  supplied  me  with  reminiscences  from  which  I 
make  some  extracts.  She  has  voluminous  notes  of  the  lectures 
of  her  master,  and  has  written  an  account  of  the  manner  and 
method  of  his  teaching,  as  well  as  of  what  she  has  called  the 
"psychological  foundations  of  education  and  society."  As  I 
have  made  use  of  other  accounts  of  his  "  manner  and  method," 
in  this  chapter  I  shall  in  part  briefly  summarize,  and  in  part 
transcribe,  what  Miss  Daley  has  sent  me  as  to  the  matter 
of  his  teaching.  He  taught  her,  she  says,  that  "  a  true  Science 
and  a  true  Philosophy  are  two  phases  of  the  same  thing  ;  and 
that  we  cannot  have  either  the  one  or  the  other  without  hav- 
ing both,  although  they  are  neither  identical  nor  separable." 
His  first  principle  was  "a  fundamentally  two-phased  being 
and  becoming-to-be ;  neither  of  which  can  be  identified  with 
the  other,  or  divorced  from  it." 

I  have  two  letters  from  Miss  Daley,  from  which  I  extract 
the  most  relevant  paragraphs.  Other  passages  I  have  sum- 
marized, as  I  could  not  print  the  letters  as  a  whole. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Knight : 

I  first  met  Mr.  Davidson  at  the  Concord  School  of  Philos- 
ophy in  1884,  and  ever  since  that  time  I  have  been  his  pupil, 
though  not  his  disciple.  He  refused  to  have  disciples,  insist- 
ing that  every  one  should  'think  whole-thoughts '  for  himself. 

74 


RETROSPECTS  OF  DAVIDSON'S  TEACHING         75 

He  was  not  a  system-builder,  and  he  purposely  left  no  fully 
elaborated  philosophy.  'There  have  been  too  many  systems 
of  philosophy  already,'  he  said  to  me.  '  In  the  very  nature  of 
things  there  can  be  nothing  final.  It  is  not  my  duty  to  draw 
conclusions  for  any  one.  What  I  want  to  do  is  to  help  people 
to  think  for  themselves,  and  to  think  round  the  circle,  not  in 
scraps  and  bits.' 

He  was  too  scientific  a  scholar  merely  to  memorize  a  book, 
or  a  system  of  philosophy,  without  self-verification,  and  he 
exhorted  his  pupils  to  work  in  the  same  spirit.  He  was  the 
most  truly  religious  man,  and  at  the  same  time  the  freest 
thinker,  that  I  have  ever  met.  He  was  the  one,  because  he 
was  the  other.  I  think  that  the  first  two  chapters  of  his 
History  of  Education,  read  in  connection  with  three  other 
papers,  the  first  on  Intellectual  Piety,  the  second  on  Educa- 
tion as  World  Building,  and  the  third  on  American  Democ- 
racy as  a  Religion,  with  a  few  abstracts  from  his  Rousseau, 
will  give  a  clear  insight  into  his  first  principles,  his  psychological 
and  theological  foundation.  Mr.  Davidson  was  not  trying  to 
develop  a  new  system  of  Philosophy,  nor  to  establish  himself 
as  an  authority,  but  to  be  a  thinker  and  actor,  and  to  help 
others  to  think  and  act.  He  held  that  every  human  being 
should  be  a  philosopher ;  that  is,  should  strive  to  know  what 
is  the  ultimate  ground  of  that  which  is,  and  not  attempt  to 
reason  from  insufficient  knowledge." 

In  a  second  letter  Miss  Daley  says  : 

"  I  can  tell  you  something  of  what  Mr.  Davidson  taught,  and 
I  send  you  a  syllabus  and  bibliography  of  his  conversation- 
lectures  on  The  Origins  of  Modern  Thought.1  I  speak  of 
these  because  Mr.  Davidson  taught  us  that  one  of  our  chief 
needs  to-day  is  the  investigation,  in  a  fearless  and  truth-revering 
spirit,  of  those  ancient  concepts  on  which  the  modern  world 
is  sustained. 

1  See  these  in  the  appendix  to  this  volume,  page  215. 


76  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

In  the  lectures  to  his  class,  and  in  his  conversations  with 
the  several  members,  Mr.  Davidson  outlined  the  history  of 
thought  in  the  western  world,  showing  the  source  of  much 
of  it  in  the  eastern.  I  am  at  a  loss  to  say  which  was  the 
more  valuable  side  of  his  work  in  these  lectures,  the  manu- 
script notes  from  which  he  read,  or  the  oral  commentary 
which  accompanied  them.  In  both  he  had  no  resemblance  to 
the  ordinary  college  lecturer,  and  he  was  the  only  teacher  I 
ever  had  who  did  not  condescend  to  the  alleged  incapacity  of 
a  woman's  mind.  Both  in  class  and  in  conversation  he  brought 
out  the  fundamental  characteristics  of  ancient  and  mediaeval 
life,  and  by  contrasting  these  with  the  essential  principle  of 
modern  life  —  especially  that  upon  which  the  United  States 
as  a  nation  is  based  —  suggested  lines  of  social  reform  which 
our  medievalism  prevents  us  from  either  seeing  or  applying. 

Mr.  Davidson  held,  and  taught,  that  society  has  reached  a 
stage  which  demands  not  only  a  revision  of  economic  con- 
cepts, but  a  restatement  of  all  the  concepts  upon  which  its 
life  is  based,  for  we  are  in  a  new  world.  It  is  man  as  man, 
with  a  higher  human  and  divine  consciousness,  that  now 
demands  consideration  before  the  supreme  court  of  reason. 
Our  failure  to  deal  successfully  with  our  present  conditions  is 
due  to  an  antiquated  notion  of  what  man  is,  and  what  he  is 
destined  to  become  ;  so  that  a  radical  reform,  a  complete  up- 
clearing  is  necessary.  The  best  hope  of  our  time  is  not  in  its 
existing  philosophy.  It  is  rather  in  the  new  interest  that  is 
taken  in  children  (in  whom  we  can  study  scientifically  'ori- 
gins '  as  well  as  '  developments  ') ;  and  in  psychology,  although 
it  must  be  admitted  that  we  have  a  somewhat  soulless  psy- 
chology. But  this  is  largely  because  most  people  will  not  ask 
fundamental  questions. 

In  the  course  of  a  lecture  on  Goethe's  Faust  Mr.  Davidson 
said :  '  The  great  Mephistophelian  error  is  to  think  the  primi- 
tive condition  of  a  thing  is  its  true  condition.'  In  stating  his 
own  view  he  frequently  made  use  of  Aristotle's  conception  of 


RETROSPECTS  OF  DAVIDSON'S  TEACHING         jj 

*  the  what-it-was-ness  '  (to  tC  tjv  elvai).  To  find  out  what  any- 
thing really  is,  is  to  find  its  'what-it-was-ness.'  But  when 
engaged  in  this  search,  he  would  say  to  us,  '  Don't  throw 
upon  the  present  the  darkness  of  the  past,  but  throw  back 
upon  the  past  the  light  of  the  present.  It  all  comes  to  this : 
we  find  in  the  highest  spiritual  society  that  now  is  the  devel- 
oped essence,  the  evolved  root-principle,  the  what-it-was-ness 
of  the  lowest.  To  say  —  as  some  psychologists  do  —  that  na- 
ture reveals  no  spiritual  intent,  while  we  arbitrarily  exclude 
from  nature  its  highest  manifestations,  is  fatal  alike  to  ade- 
quate knowledge  and  to  a  comprehensive  view  of  education. 
We  must  always  remember  that  the  supernatural  is  the  higher 
natural.' 

Passing  from  theoretic  to  more  practical  matters,  I  have 
heard  Mr.  Davidson  accused  of  arriving,  in  his  later  years,  at 
negative  conclusions.  I  saw  him  grow,  from  much  with  which 
he  began  to  more  with  which  he  ended,  through  nearly  seven- 
teen years  of  advancing  experience.  He  certainly  reached 
conclusions  which  contradict  the  opinions  of  those  who  imag- 
ine it  possible  to  make  a  final  inventory  of  all  that  is  embraced 
in  self,  or  God. 

On  one  occasion  he  said,  'Nothing  can  free  the  intellect 
and  enable  it  to  act  with  perfect  liberty,  except  clear,  unwav- 
ering insight ;  it  is  that  which  distinguishes  worth  from  worth- 
lessness.  .  .  .  Truth  is  entirely  independent  of  you  and  me; 
it  is  our  business  to  find  it  out.'  Again,  'Truth  is  the  corre- 
late of  knowledge ;  you  can't  know  anything  that  is  n't  true, 
and  yet  intellect  is  the  cause  of  truth  itself.' 

He  wrote  :  '  By  intellect  as  distinct  from  reason  I  mean 
the  primitive  faculty  which  grasps  the  essential  and  ideal  unity 
of  the  universe,  which  makes  it  possible  for  us  to  transform 
our  groups  of  sensations  into  things,  and  look  at  them  as 
something  distinct  from  and  independent  of  ourselves ;  in 
other  words,   to  look  at  them  as  objective.1    Though  Kant 

1  See  Intellectual  Piety ;  also  Education  as  World  Building. 


78  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

ruined  the  language  of  philosophy  by  putting  reason  above 
intellect,  he  was  the  founder  of  all  modern  thought  that  is 
worth  anything.  In  the  history  of  philosophy  he  was  the 
successor  of  Socrates.  Twist  and  turn  as  we  please,  there  is 
no  getting  away  from  Kant's  conclusion  that  without  the 
power  of  the  mind  to  make  its  world  we  could  have  nothing 
but  chaos.  .  .  .  We  make  our  world — not,  observe,  the  world 
that  the  body  lives  in  —  when  we  have  intelligence  of,  or 
predicate  anything  of,  the  outer  world.  We  begin  not  with 
construction,  but  with  reconstruction.  When  we  have  intelli- 
gence of  ourselves  we  predicate  being  of  feeling.  Intellect 
says,  This  is,  or  this  ought  to  be.  Desire  says,  Would  that 
this  were.  Will  says,  Let  this  be  done.  The  will,  as  will,  is 
not  free,  although  freedom  exists.  Intellect  is  the  freeing 
power ;  and  it  is  folly  to  talk  of  free  will,  so  long  as  we  have 
not  free  intellect.  Obligation  constrains  the  good  will  through 
intelligence  and  love,  or  through  love  guided  by  intelligence. 

Furthermore,  note  well  that  you  cannot  separate  the  human 
from  the  divine,  and  place  them  over  against  each  other,  as 
Xenophanes  set  the  one  and  the  many,  the  relative  and  the 
absolute ;  as  Plato  set  the  ideal  and  the  real ;  as  the  Hebrews 
before  Christ  set  God  and  man ;  and  as  dogmatic  Christianity 
has  tried  to  set  them.  God  and  man  are  correlates,  and  corre- 
lates, as  I  have  repeatedly  said,  are  neither  identical  nor 
separable.  There  cannot  be  a  man  without  a  God ;  and  man 
is  as  necessary  to  God  as  God  is  to  man,  or  there  could  be 
no  revelation  or  manifestation  of  either.  In  the  existence 
and  the  corelationship  of  the  finite  and  the  infinite,  we  have 
a  fundamental  dualism,  but  we  have  it  also  in  that  double 
concept  of  the  self  which  runs  through  all  the  social  world. 
"Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself,"  our  love  for  self 
being  the  form  by  which  to  measure  what  we  owe  in  love  to 
our  neighbor;  but  we  cannot  do  this  unless  in  practice  we 
obey  the  precept  "  Know  thyself  !  "  We  stand  here  between 
the  personal  —  and  more  than  personal  —  God  on  the  one 


RETROSPECTS  OF  DAVIDSON'S  TEACHING         79 

hand,  and  our  neighbor  on  the  other ;  and  it  is  sheer  hypoc- 
risy to  claim  that  we  love  God  while  we  do  not  love  our 
neighbor  as  ourselves.' 

Although  Mr.  Davidson  tried  to  show  that  in  the  very  na- 
ture of  things  there  can  be  no  final  system  of  Philosophy,  he 
has  left  us  a  better  psychological  and  theological  basis  than 
we  possessed  before  ;  and  in  the  forming  of  these  fundamental 
principles  he  was  helped  by  the  great  thinkers  of  all  ages. 
He  made  use  of  Bonaventura's1  fine  philosophy,  and  Ros- 
mini's  keen  insight,  but  he  did  not  accept  all  their  conclusions. 
He  had  received  much  from  our  ancient  Jewish  heritage,  and 
seemed  to  know  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  by  heart,  as  well  as 
the  New  Testament.  The  pre-Socratics  were  not  a  '  rubbish 
heap '  to  him.  He  knew  them  all,  and  used  them  step  by  step, 
as  well  as  their  mediaeval  and  modern  successors. 

I  wish  it  were  possible  to  follow  the  evolution  of  the  world's 
thought  as  he  unfolded  it  to  us,  but  I  am  mainly  anxious  to 
emphasize  his  conclusion,  which  was  this,  that  each  one  of  us 
may  say  truly,  '  I  am  a  two-phased  sensibility,  modified  in 
innumerable  ways  by  influences  which  I  do  not  originate.' 
The  whole  question  of  obligation  and  responsibility  begins 
here.  We  do  not  originate  these  influences,  but  we  react 
upon  them.  We  do  not  construct  the  outer  world,  but  we 
reconstruct  it,  and  we  begin  to  reconstruct  it  as  soon  as  we 
perceive  it.  '  Strange  is  that  blindness  of  the  intellect,'  says 
Bonaventura,  '  that  does  not  consider  that  which  it  sees,  and 
without  which  it  can  know  nothing  !  .  .  . ' 

Sincerely  yours, 

Charlotte  F.  Daley." 

1  He  translated  Bonaventura's  Soul's  Progress  in  God,  and  sent  it  to  the 
Journal  0/  Speculative  Philosophy,  July,  1887. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

LECTURES  TO  THE  BREADWINNERS 

The  aim  of  this  experiment  in  New  York  to  bring  some 
culture  into  the  lives  of  working  men  and  women,  "the 
breadwinners,"  as  Davidson  called  them,  is  best  unfolded 
in  his  own  words.  Referring  to  the  lectures  which  he  gave 
to  the  Russian  Jews  at  the  Educational  Alliance  in  East 
Broadway,  on  the  "  Problems  which  the  Nineteenth  Century 
presents  to  the  Twentieth,"  and  the  private  discussions  which 
followed  the  lectures,  he  wrote  : 

"  In  these  discussions  I  had  come  to  know  to  some  extent 
the  character,  aspirations,  and  needs  of  the  young  people  whom 
I  undertook  to  instruct.  I  saw  that  they  were  both  able  and 
earnest,  but  carried  away  by  superficial  views  of  a  socialistic 
or  anarchist  sort,  greatly  to  their  own  detriment  and  to  that 
of  society.  My  first  object,  therefore,  in  taking  up  this  class 
was  to  induce  its  members  to  study  and  think  out  carefully 
the  problems  of  sociology  and  culture,  in  accordance  with  the 
historic  method,  and  so  to  impart  to  their  minds  a  healthy 
attitude  towards  society,  to  do  away  with  the  vengeful  sense 
of  personal  or  class  wrong,  and  to  arouse  faith  in  individual 
effort  and  manly  and  womanly  self-dependence.  I  desired, 
moreover,  to  give  them  such  an  outlook  upon  life  as  could 
lift  their  lives  out  of  narrowness  and  sordidness  and  give 
them  ideal  aims.  Finally,  I  wished  to  train  them  in  the  use 
of  correct  English,  both  written  and  spoken.  My  method  of 
instruction  consisted  in  gaining  their  confidence,  and  making 
them  do  as  much  as  possible.  I  also  tried  to  impart  impetus, 
and  give  direction.  In  spite  of  a  little  distrust  on  their  part 
at  first,  I  soon  gained  their  confidence,  and  even  their  affection; 

80 


LECTURES  TO  THE  BREADWINNERS      8 1 

while  they  performed  the  tasks  set  them  with  a  will  and 
perseverance  that  were  really  admirable." 

The  class  from  which  his  pupils  came  were  working  trades- 
men and  tradeswomen  of  the  Jewish  community,  some  of  them 
exceedingly  poor;  but,  as  one  who  knew  them  put  it,  they  "rep- 
resented the  best  element  amongst  the  Russian  Hebrews,  who, 
though  poor,  have  the  scholarly  instinct  of  the  race,  intense 
loyalty  to  their  people,  and  an  ideal  beyond  worldly  success." 
The  same  chronicler  writes,  "  He  said  to  a  friend  a  short  time 
before  his  death  that  he  thought  the  whole  of  his  life  had 
been  a  preparation  for  just  this  work." 

The  fact  that  a  Thomas  Davidson  Society  exists  and 
flourishes  in  New  York,  and  that  it  is  even  more  ardent  in 
the  pursuit  of  the  ideals  he  set  before  it  than  it  was  in  his 
lifetime,  is  the  best  tribute  to  him  that  could  possibly  exist  ; 
nobler  far  than  any  temporary  fame  as  a  writer  of  books. 
The  tie  which  united  lecturer  and  audience  was  that  of  teacher 
and  taught ;  and  the  teacher-friend  used  occasionally  to  invite 
these  city  pupils  out  to  his  summer  home  in  the  mountains, 
where  their  delight  in  nature,  and  the  free,  unsophisticated  life 
of  the  place,  was  intense.  One  of  them,  writing  to  friends 
in  the  New  York  home  he  had  temporarily  left,  dated  his 
letter  "Heaven,  Aug.  14th,  etc." 

No  better  account  of  the  New  York  experiment  has  been 
given,  and  no  more  authoritative  one  is  possible,  than  that 
contained  in  an  address  on  "  Some  Ideals  and  Characteristics 
of  Thomas  Davidson,"  delivered  by  Mr.  Morris  R.  Cohen, 
the  continuator  of  his  work,  at  a  memorial  meeting  held  in 
East  Broadway,  on  October  26,  1901.  As  it  contains  por- 
tions of  letters  written  by  the  founder  of  the  school  to  his 
classes,  I  cannot  do  better  than  republish  part  of  it.  Mr.  Cohen 
wrote : 

"  Those  who  knew  Thomas  Davidson  will  understand  that 
it  is  utterly  impossible  to  give  anything  like  an  adequate 


82  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

summary  of  his  life  or  character.  The  life  of  a  truly  great 
man  cannot  be  ticketed  or  labeled.  Nevertheless,  there  are 
certain  traits  of  his  character  which  are  especially  significant 
for  those  of  us  who  are  trying  to  continue  his  work. 

To  my  mind  his  most  fundamental  characteristic  was  that 
he  lived  philosophically  on  a  truly  large  scale.  He  lived  for 
the  really  great  things  of  life ;  and  stood  far  above  the  petty 
issues,  and  the  petty  rewards,  for  which  the  multitude  is  always 
struggling.  He  refused  to  be  dragged  into  any  of  the  insig- 
nificant muddles  of  the  day,  but  constantly  strove  to  be  on 
the  great  streams  of  reality.  None  but  the  highest  enjoy- 
ments and  motives  had  any  existence  for  him.  Above  all,  he 
judged  actions  by  their  eternal  results.  He  lived  for  eternity ; 
and  that  is  why  the  effects  of  his  life  cannot  die. 

The  life  of  Thomas  Davidson  was  essentially  a  heroic  life. 
Though  as  I  knew  him,  one  of  the  most  sympathetic  souls 
that  ever  trod  this  globe,  he  had  no  sympathy  with  anything 
unheroic.  He  had  a  generous  faith  in  human  nature,  believ- 
ing that  there  are  heroes  and  heroines  now,  more  than  ever 
before,  to  be  found  in  every  street  and  on  every  corner,  and 
that  it  is  only  our  own  blindness  that  prevents  us  from  appeal- 
ing to  the  heroic  in  them.  It  was  just  because  he  led  this  large 
life,  and  expected  it  of  every  one  else,  that  it  was  more  than 
a  liberal  education  in  itself  to  have  been  intimately  acquainted 
with  him ;  and  we  cannot  do  better  than  attempt  to  continue 
his  work,  judging  ourselves  by  the  standards  by  which  he 
would  have  judged  us,  and  thus  stimulating  ourselves  to  ever 
greater  hopes  and  tasks. 

There  is  a  tendency  nowadays,  especially  among  'practical' 
people,  to  look  down  upon  all  attempts  to  grapple  with  the 
deep  problems  of  existence.  Mr.  Davidson  showed  in  clear 
and  unmistakable  terms  that  it  is  only  sheer  sloth  and  coward- 
ice that  can  urge  us  to  declare  certain  problems  insoluble, 
before  we  have  exerted  all  our  efforts  to  solve  them.  And 
he  also  showed  how  absolutely  futile  must  be  any  attempt  to 


LECTURES  TO  THE  BREADWINNERS  83 

solve  our  problems  as  '  East-Siders '  without  taking  into  con- 
sideration our  problems  as  men  and  women.  Now  as  ever  the 
commandment  holds  true  :  '  Seek  ye  the  kingdom  of  God,  and 
his  righteousness,  and  all  the  rest  shall  be  added  unto  you.' 

He  taught  that  the  highest  reverence  is  due  to  human 
reason ;  that  the  highest  duty  is  to  search  for  the  truth  with 
unbiased  mind  ;  and  that  the  highest  courage  is  to  follow  the 
truth  always  and  everywhere,  regardless  of  where  it  may 
lead  us. 

With  all  his  deep  erudition  he  did  not  overestimate  the 
value  of  learning.  He  was  interested  in  knowledge  only  as  a 
motive  to  right  living.  He  insisted  on  our  becoming  acquainted 
with  every  branch  of  human  knowledge,  —  Science,  Philosophy, 
Art,  and  Literature,  —  but  only  because  they  help  us  to  lead 
rational  lives. 

He  also  realized  that  mere  knowledge  alone  will  not  enable 
us  to  solve  the  profound  problems  of  life ;  that  sympathy  is 
an  essential  part  of  a  right  attitude  to  the  riddles  of  the  uni- 
verse. You  must  tune  up  your  heart  to  catch  the  music  of 
the  spheres.  But  above  all  he  realized  that  we  do  not  truly 
know  until  our  so-called  knowledge  is  tested  in  real  life,  that 
life  cannot  be  learned  merely  in  the  study  without  experience 
in  the  arena  of  life  itself,  that  wisdom  is  not  to  be  obtained 
from  text-books,  but  must  be  coined  out  of  human  experience 
in  the  flame  of  life. 

This  is  what  led  him  to  the  idea  of  establishing  a  Bread- 
winners' College.  In  his  letters  to  the  class  he  pointed  out 
the  great  defect  in  the  ordinary  College  and  University  educa- 
tion, viz.  '  that  it  stops  with  knowing,  and  does  not  go  on  to 
loving  and  doing.  It  therefore  never  is  really  appropriated, 
for  knowing  that  does  not  pass  into  act  and  habit  is  never 
ours,  but  remains  an  external  thing,  a  mere  useless  accom- 
plishment, to  be  vain  about.'  '  If  every  one  of  you,'  he  wrote 
to  us,  '  would  translate  his  or  her  knowledge  into  love  and 
work,    [then]  we    should  have  an    Educational    Institute,  a 


84  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

Breadwinners'  College  —  call  it  anything  you  like  —  such  as 
the  world  has  never  yet  seen,  an  Institution  which  will 
teach  men  and  women  to  become  public-spirited,  generously 
cultured,  pure  and  high-minded,  an  institution  which  will  help 
more  than  anything  else  to  banish  ignorance  and  moral 
poverty.' 

Such  an  Institution  Thomas  Davidson  wanted  us  to  form, 
and  such  an  Institution  will  be  formed  if  we  are  true  to 
ourselves.  .   .  . 

Our  own  little  society  already  does  something  to  combine 
the  advantages  of  the  College  and  the  Church  with  those  of 
the  home.  We  form  a  School  in  so  far  as  we  help  each  other 
to  master  the  world's  wisdom  and  learning  —  a  Church  in  so 
far  as  we  encourage  each  other  to  form  and  to  live  up  to  the 
highest  ideals  —  a  Home  in  so  far  as  we  try  to  cultivate  among 
ourselves  those  deep,  cordial  relations  which  unfortunately  are 
seldom  found  outside  of  the  home. 

In  one  of  his  earliest  letters  to  us  Thomas  Davidson  writes  : 
•  There  is  nothing  that  the  world  of  to-day  needs  so  much  as 
a  new  order  of  social  relations,  a  new  feeling  between  man 
and  man.  We  may  talk  and  teach  as  long  as  we  like,  but 
until  we  have  a  new  society  with  ideal  relations  and  aims  we 
have  accomplished  very  little.  All  great  world  movements 
begin  with  a  little  knot  of  people,  who,  in  their  individual 
lives,  and  in  their  relations  to  each  other,  realize  the  ideal 
that  is  to  be.  To  live  truth  is  better  than  to  utter  it.  Isaiah 
would  have  prophesied  in  vain  had  he  not  gathered  round 
him  a  little  band  of  disciples  who  lived  according  to  his 
ideal.  .  .  .  Again,  what  would  the  teachings  of  Jesus  have 
amounted  to  had  he  not  collected  a  body  of  disciples,  who 
made  it  their  life-aim  to  put  his  teachings  into  practice  ? '  He 
was  bold  enough  to  think  that  the  new  view  of  the  world,  the 
modern  scientific  view,  makes  it  possible  'to  frame  a  new 
series  of  ethical  precepts  which  should  do  for  our  time  what 
the  Deutronomic  Law  did  for  the  time  of  Isaiah,  and  the 


LECTURES  TO  THE  BREADWINNERS      85 

Sermon  on  the  Mount  for  that  of  Jesus.'  And  he  was  even 
more  bold  to  state  his  conviction  that '  it  is  impossible  to  reach 
a  better  social  and  moral  condition,  until  we  have  rationally- 
adopted  an  entirely  new  view  of  life  and  its  meaning ;  a  new 
philosophy  truer  and  deeper  than  any  that  has  gone  before.' 
To  those  who  are  a  little  skeptical  he  says  :  '  You  will 
perhaps  think  I  am  laying  out  a  mighty  task  for  you,  a  task 
far  above  your  powers  and  aspirations ;  but  it  is  not  so. 
Every  great  change  in  individual  and  social  conditions  —  and 
we  are  on  the  verge  of  such  a  change  —  begins  small,  among 
simple,  earnest  people,  face  to  face  with  the  facts  of  life.  Ask 
yourself  seriously,  Why  should  not  the  coming  change  begin 
with  us  ?  You  will  find  that  there  is  no  reason  why  the  new 
world,  —  the  world  of  righteousness,  kindliness,  and  enlight- 
enment, for  which  we  are  all  longing  and  toiling,  —  may  not 
date  from  us,  as  well  as  from  anybody.'  'A  little  knot  of 
earnest  Jews  has  turned  the  world  upside  down  before  now. 
Why  may  not  the  same  thing  —  nay,  a  far  better  thing  — 
happen  in  your  day  and  among  you  ?  Have  you  forgotten 
the  old  promise  made  to  Abraham,  "  In  thy  seed  shall  all 
the  nations  of  the  earth  be  blessed  "  ? '    Quoting  from  Lowell, 

We  see  dimly  in  the  present  what  is  small  and  what  is  great, 
Slow  of  faith,  how  weak  an  arm  may  turn  the  iron  helm  of  fate, 

he  added,  '  It  may  be  our  weak  arm  if  we  will  it.' 

It  was  this  large  outlook,  based  on  history  and  philosophy, 
which  made  Thomas  Davidson  despise  all  our  modern  pallia- 
tives, and  petty  remedies,  for  social  ills.  He  had  no  sympathy 
with  the  efforts  of  those  who,  not  knowing  how  to  educate 
the  masses  of  the  people,  offer  them  petty  amusements  to 
keep  them  off  the  streets  and  away  from  the  saloons.  He  did 
not  believe  in  trifles.  He  stood  for  the  highest  culture  for  the 
breadwinners,  for  the  people  who  have  to  '  go  to  work '  early. 
He  was  convinced  that  the  way  to  lift  the  people  above  their 
degrading  and  vicious  lives  was  to  give  them  an  intelligent 


86  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

view  of  the  world,  which  will  offer  them  an  inspiring  outlook 
on  life.  '  One  intelligent  glimpse  of  the  drama  of  life,'  he 
said,  •  will  quench  all  the  desire  for  the  pleasure  of  the  dive 
and  the  prize  ring.'  The  whole  history  of  education,  accord- 
ing to  him,  points  to  the  educational  institution  of  the  future 
as  the  Breadwinners'  College,  where  culture  will  be  learned 
by  the  great  body  of  the  people  who  are  engaged  in  the  actual 
business  of  life ;  and  who,  becoming  early  acquainted  with 
'life's  prime  needs  and  agonies '  are  far  better  prepared  for  true 
education  than  the  idle  young  men  who  attend  our  ordinary 
Colleges  and  Universities.  The  Breadwinners'  College  will  be 
an  institution  which  will  teach  a  man  to  take  an  intelligent 
view  of  his  surroundings,  of  what  goes  on  in  the  world  and 
has  gone  on  in  it,  and  will  thus  help  him  to  lead  a  simple, 
upright  life,  useful,  tasteful,  and  above  all,  self-respecting. 
Then  only  will  he  be  fit  for  the  various  personal,  domestic, 
political,  and  social  duties  demanded  of  the  complete  man. 
Without  an  intelligent  outlook  on  society  (based  on  the 
study  of  its  history)  it  is  impossible  to  take  an  intelligent 
interest  in  it,  and  hence  our  corrupt  politics  ;  without  an 
understanding  of  the  meaning  of  the  great  institutions  under 
which  we  live,  men  are  not  fit  to  become  their  supporters. 
Only  by  dispelling  ignorance  as  to  the  vital  questions  of  life 
can  we  hope  to  make  the  lives  of  men  possessed  of  meaning 
and  dignity. 

There  is  another  characteristic  of  Thomas  Davidson  which 
ought  not  to  be  left  out  of  sight,  and  that  is  his  rare  tact,  —  the 
skillful  way  in  which  he  managed  to  hold  the  balance  between 
opposing  forces,  between  Individualism  and  Socialism,  between 
freedom  and  order,  between  the  old  and  the  new.  His  expres- 
sions indeed  sometimes  leaned  one  way  and  sometimes  another, 
but  at  bottom  there  was  an  unshaken  equipoise.  Some  thought 
him  an  extreme  individualist.  And  indeed  he  did  champion 
the  integrity  of  man  against  all  idols.  In  this  practical  and 
scientific  age  there  is  a  tendency  to  lose  sight  of  the  individual 


LECTURES  TO  THE  BREADWINNERS      87 

man  amidst  natural  forces  and  scientific  laws.  He  boldly- 
stood  by  that  characteristically  Hebrew  saying,  'The  Sabbath 
was  made  for  man,  not  man  for  the  Sabbath.'  He  recognized 
that  science,  institutions,  and  doctrines  exist  for  man,  and 
not  man  for  science,  institutions,  or  doctrines.  He  regarded 
the  individual  man  as  a  holy  temple,  and  believed  that  nothing 
in  the  universe  was  holier.  Yet  he  was  the  last  man  in  the 
world  to  underestimate  social  action.  He  realized  full  well 
that  every  soul  which  has  found  what  it  deems  higher  truth 
must  seek  to  form  an  association,  to  found  a  brotherhood,  in 
order  to  realize  that  truth.  Without  such  an  organization 
little  can  be  done,  for  unless  we  can  stand  strong  in  the 
sympathy  of  a  band  we  are  apt  to  fall  back  into  accustomed 
paths. 

He  knew  how  to  hold  the  balance  between  the  old  and  the 
new.  This  is  perhaps  best  shown  with  reference  to  our  more 
immediate  problems  of  the  East  Side.  The  most  important 
practical  question  on  the  East  Side  is  undoubtedly  the  strained, 
I  might  say  the  tragic,  relation  between  the  older  and  the 
younger  generations.  The  younger  generation  has,  as  a  rule, 
been  brought  up  under  entirely  different  circumstances  from 
those  of  its  elders,  and  therefore  naturally  entertains  rad- 
ically different  aims  and  ideals.  The  older  generation  does 
not  sympathize  with  these  new  ideals,  and  in  the  ensuingTdis- 
cord  much  of  the  proverbial  strength  of  the  Jewish  family  is 
lost.  This  is  fraught  with  heartrending  consequences.  When 
the  home  ceases  to  be  the  center  of  interest  the  unity  of  life 
is  broken,  and  the  dreariest  pessimism  and  cynicism  may 
follow.  Of  course  our  elder  and  wiser  friends  tell  us  that  the 
fault  is  entirely  with  the  younger  people  —  but  that  does  not 
solve  the  problem.  You  cannot  and  must  not  expect  the 
younger  people  to  become  false  to  their  own  best  insight  at 
the  very  entrance  of  life  ! 

Thomas  Davidson  taught  us  to  see  in  this  conflict  a  mani- 
festation of  the  feud  between  the  old  and  the  new  which  has 


88  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

shaped  history.  He  impressed  upon  us  the  necessity  of  taking 
an  honest  position  in  this  conflict,  respecting  the  rights  of 
both.  He  pointed  out  to  us  that  we  have  no  right  to  break 
away  from  the  past,  until  we  have  appropriated  what  we  can 
of  its  experience  and  wisdom  ;  and  he  also  taught  us  to  recog- 
nize that  there  is  a  law  of  love  besides  the  law  of  truth,  and 
that  the  former  has  its  rights  even  besides  the  latter.  But 
while  we  must  aim  to  understand  the  position  of  the  old  and 
to  sympathize  with  it,  we  must  hold  on  to  what  seems  to  us 
the  higher  truth.  He  taught  us  to  be  reverent  to  the  past, 
but  above  all  to  be  loyal  to  the  future,  to  the  Kingdom  which 
doth  not  yet  appear. 

In  the  words  of  Tennyson  : 

Not  clinging  to  some  ancient  saw, 
Not  mastered  by  some  modern  term, 
Not  swift  nor  slow  to  change,  but  firm : 

And  in  its  season  bring  the  law, 

That  from  Discussion's  lip  may  fall 

With  Life,  that,  working  strongly,  binds  — 
Set  in  all  lights  by  many  minds, 

To  close  the  interests  of  all." 

In  the  memorial  volume  on  Davidson  by  Professor  Charles 
M.  Bakewell,  his  friend  and  literary  executor,  entitled  The 
Education  of  the  Wage-Earners,  a  Contribution  toward  the 
Solution  of  the  Educational  Problem  of  Democracy,  by  Thomas 
Davidson,  there  is  a  very  full  account  of  this  great  experi- 
ment in  New  York  City,  the  larger  part  of  the  volume  (Chap- 
ters II,  III,  IV,  and  V)  being  in  Davidson's  own  words.  The 
fifth  chapter  contains  an  excellent  introduction  on  his  life  and 
philosophy ;  and  the  sixth,  and  last,  traces  the  story  of  the 
movement  after  its  founder's  death. 

Before  reading  this  book,  the  preface  to  which  is  dated 
August  5,  1904,  I  had  received  from  Mr.  Cohen  a  paper 
written  by  Mr.  Davidson  in  September,  1899,  which  explains 
his  aims  and  ideals ;  and,  although  much  of  it  is  stated  in 


LECTURES  TO  THE  BREADWINNERS      89 

another  form  in  Mr.  Bakewell's  book,  those  who  are  interested 
in  the  movement  may  welcome  a  briefer  outline  in  the  words 
of  the  founder.    It  is  as  follows  : 


"  The  Higher  Education  of  the  Breadwinners 

September,  1899. 

It  cannot  be  said  of  our  people  that  they  are  backward  or 
niggardly  in  the  matter  of  education.  In  no  country  is  so 
much  money  expended  upon  schools  and  colleges  as  in  the 
United  States.  And  yet  our  people  are  very  far  from  being 
educated  as  they  ought  to  be.  Ignorance  is  still  widespread, 
and  not  only  the  ignorant,  but  the  whole  nation  suffers  in 
consequence.  In  spite  of  our  magnificent  system  of  public 
schools  and  our  numerous  colleges  and  universities  —  over 
five  hundred  in  all  —  the  great  body  of  our  citizens  lack  the 
education  necessary  to  give  dignity  and  meaning  to  their  indi- 
vidual lives,  and  to  fit  them  for  the  worthy  performance  of 
their  duties  as  members  of  the  institutions  under  which  they 
live.  Our  public  schools  stop  short  too  soon,  while  our  colleges 
do  not  reach  more  than  one  in  a  thousand  of  our  population. 
Moreover,  neither  school  nor  college  imparts  that  education 
which  our  citizens,  as  such,  require  —  domestic,  social,  and 
civic  culture.  What  is  imparted  is  defective  both  in  kind  and 
in  extent. 

There  are  three  kinds  of  education,  which  ought  to  be  dis- 
tinguished, but  which  at  present  we  do  not  distinguish  with 
sufficient  care:  (1)  culture,  that  is,  the  education  necessary 
for  every  human  being,  in  order  that  he  may  be  able  worthily 
to  fulfill  duties  as  a  member  of  social  institutions  ;  (2)  pro- 
fessional training,  necessary  for  the  earning  of  a  livelihood ; 
(3)  erudition,  demanded  by  those  who  would  advance  science, 
or  give  instruction  in  it.  It  is  regrettable  that  both  in  our 
schools  and  in  our  colleges  these  are  hopelessly  mixed  up, 
and  that  the  first  receives  but  scanty  attention. 


90  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

Even  more  regrettable  is  the  fact  that  our  schools  and  col- 
leges, for  the  most  part,  confine  their  attention  to  persons 
who  have  nothing  to  do  but  study,  who  are  not  engaged  in 
any  kind  of  useful  or  productive  labor.  This  results  in  two 
evils  :  (i)  education,  for  the  great  body  of  the  people,  must 
stop  at  an  early  age,  since  the  children  of  all  but  wealthy  fam- 
ilies must  go  to  work  as  soon  as  possible,  few  of  them 
reaching  the  high  school,  fewer  yet  the  university,  or  pro- 
fessional training  school;  (2)  education  is  withheld  just  from 
those  who  are  in  the  best  position  to  profit  by  it ;  for  every 
teacher  with  sufficient  experience  knows  that  people  who  have 
a  knowledge  of  practical  life  and  its  duties  are  far  better  and 
more  encouraging  pupils  than  those  who  have  not. 

It  thus  appears  that  social  and  civic  culture  is  largely 
neglected  in  our  educational  institutions,  and  that  it  alto- 
gether fails  to  reach  those  who  are  best  fitted  to  profit  by  it. 
In  a  word,  the  culture  calculated  to  make  the  wise  and  good 
citizen  is  almost  nonexistent.  We  have  good  artisans,  good 
merchants,  good  doctors,  good  lawyers,  etc.,  in  abundance,  but 
we  have  few  persons  of  liberal  culture,  and  still  fewer  who 
can  worthily  fill  important  offices  in  society  and  state,  or  who 
can  even  cast  an  intelligent  vote  for  such.  Fewest  of  all, 
those  who  understand  how  their  lives  affect  the  general  wel- 
fare, whence  the  money  they  earn  comes,  and  whether  or  not 
it  is  an  equivalent  for  benefits  conferred  upon  society. 

Thus  it  comes  to  pass  that  the  lives  of  the  great  mass  of 
our  citizens  are  unintelligent,  narrow,  sordid,  envious,  and 
unhappy,  and  that  we  are  constantly  threatened  with  popular 
uprisings  and  the  overthrow  of  our  free  institutions.  Thus, 
too,  it  comes  that  our  politics  are  base,  and  our  politicians 
venal  and  selfish.  The  laboring  classes  are,  through  want  of 
education,  easily  cozened  or  bribed  to  vote  in  opposition  to 
their  own  best  interests,  and  so  to  condemn  themselves  to 
continued  slavish  toil  and  poverty,  which  means  exclusion 
from  all  share  in  the  spiritual  wealth  of  the  race. 


LECTURES  TO  THE  BREADWINNERS  91 

There  is,  at  the  present  time,  perhaps  no  individual  prob- 
lem in  our  country  [so  pressing]  as  that  of  the  higher  educa- 
tion—  the  intellectual,  moral,  and  social  culture  —  of  that 
great  body  of  men  and  women,  who,  from  a  pretty  early  age, 
have  to  spend  the  larger  portion  of  their  time  in  earning 
a  livelihood.  These  include  not  only  the  working  classes 
so-called  —  the  skilled  and  unskilled  laborers  —  but  also  the 
great  majority  of  the  wage-earners  of  every  sort,  and  not  a 
few  of  the  wage-givers.  All  these  need  a  larger  world,  a  more 
ideal  outlook,  such  as  education  alone  can  give,  not  only  to 
impart  meaning  and  dignity  to  their  life  of  toil,  but  also  to 
enable  them  to  contribute  their  share  to  the  well-being  of 
society,  and  prevent  it  from  falling  back  into  violence  and 
barbarism. 

It  is  true  that,  in  the  last  few  years,  considerable  efforts 
have  been  made  to  provide  the  breadwinners  with  opportuni- 
ties both  for  professional  training  and  for  higher  culture.  In 
our  larger  cities  "university  extension"  has  been  introduced, 
training  schools  have  been  opened,  and  evening  schools  and 
lectures  on  a  large  scale  established.  Of  these  efforts  there 
is  nothing  but  good  to  say.  They  are,  however,  a  promise 
rather  than  a  fulfillment,  a  beginning  and  little  more.  They 
must  be  greatly  extended  and  systematized  before  they  can 
meet  the  needs  of  the  breadwinners.  The  training  schools 
are,  of  course,  an  unmixed  good,  and  we  only  require  more 
of  kthem ;  but  the  university  extension,  to  a  large  extent, 
imparts  a  sort  of  education  that  is  not  demanded,  and  fails  to 
give  much  that  is  demanded,  while  both  it  and  the  evening 
classes  and  lectures  are  deficient  in  system  and  unity  of  plan. 
Neither  has  a  distinct  aim,  and  neither  sufficiently  controls 
the  work  of  the  pupils.  Worst  of  all,  both  exclude  from  their 
programmes  some  of  the  very  subjects  which  it  is  most  essen- 
tial for  the  breadwinners  to  be  acquainted  with  —  economics, 
sociology,  politics,  religion,  etc. 


92  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

Of  the  three  kinds  of  education,  the  breadwinners  need 
only  two, — (i)  technical  training,1  (2)  intellectual  and  moral,  or 
social  training.2  The  breadwinner,  if  his  work  is  to  be  effective, 
and  equivalent  to  a  decent  livelihood,  earnable  with  a  moder- 
ate expenditure  of  time  and  energy,  must  have  skill ;  other- 
wise he  will  have  neither  time  nor  energy  left  for  any  other 
sort  of  education.  Spare  time  and  energy  are  prime  elements 
in  the  whole  question.  In  any  just  order  of  society  each  mem- 
ber will  receive  from  society  a  just  equivalent  for  what  he 
contributes  to  it.  If  he  is  so  unskilled  that  his  work  is  not 
equivalent  to  a  livelihood,  he  has  no  right  to  complain  when 
he  suffers  want.  It  must  therefore  be  the  aim  of  every  one 
who  would  humanize  and  elevate  the  breadwinners  to  see  that 
they  have  skill  enough  to  earn  their  daily  bread  without  depriv- 
ing themselves  of  free  time,  and  energy  to  devote  to  living 
and  spiritual  culture. 

Supposing  now  that  all  the  breadwinners  were  in  this  con- 
dition that,  being  able  to  earn  a  living  in,  say,  eight  hours  a 
day,  they  had  considerable  free  time ;  they  might  still  remain 
uncultured  and  sordid,  their  tastes  vulgar  or  depraved.  They 
might  still  have  little  rest  and  joy  in  life,  little  inspiring  out- 
look. They  might  still  not  be  valuable  members  of  society. 
We  have  not  done  our  whole  duty  by  the  breadwinners  when 
we  have  made  them  comfortable,  —  we  must  go  further  and 
make  them  cultured  and  wise. 

Now  what  must  be  the  nature  of  such  culture  and  wisdom? 
We  may  answer,  Such  as  shall  enable  their  recipients  to  play 
a  worthy  and  generous  part  in  all  the  relations  of  life  and  to 

1  A  clear  distinction  should  be  drawn  between  manual  training  which 
should  be  imparted  in  the  common  schools  to  all  children  without  distinction, 
as  part  of  their  general  education,  —  and  technical  training  which  should  be 
given,  as  a  preparation  for  a  special  profession,  to  those  intending  to  follow 
that  profession. 

3  I  do  not  mean  that  any  one  should  be  shut  out  from  erudition.  I  mean 
that  erudition  is  not  a  necessity  for  the  breadwinner.  I  think,  too,  that  all 
distinction  between  liberal  and  illiberal  professions  should  be  blotted  out. 


LECTURES  TO  THE  BREADWINNERS      93 

enjoy  those  high  satisfactions  that  come  of  such  worthiness. 
We  may  express  this  otherwise,  by  saying  that  they  must  be 
such  as  to  enable  a  man  to  know  and  understand  his  environ- 
ment ;  to  take  an  intelligent  interest  in  all  that  goes  on,  or 
has  gone  on  in  the  world ;  to  enter  into  lofty  personal  rela- 
tions, and  to  live  clean,  tasteful,  useful,  self-respecting  lives. 
The  relations  for  which  culture  should  prepare  are:  (1)  per- 
sonal, (2)  domestic,  (3)  social  (including  economic),  (4)  politi- 
cal. It  would  be  possible  to  arrange  a  system  of  education  on 
the  basis  of  this  classification ;  but  it  is  not  necessary  to  do 
so.  The  different  relations,  however,  ought  to  be  kept  in 
view  in  arranging  any  course  of  culture  studies. 

Perhaps  the  following  curriculum,  extending  over  three  or 
four  years,  might  meet  the  needs  of  the  breadwinners  in  the 
present  condition  : 

1.  Evolution  :  its  theory  and  history. 

2.  History  of  civilization. 

3.  The  system  of  the  sciences. 

4.  Sociology. 

5.  Political  theory  and  history. 

6.  History  of  industry  and  commerce. 

7.  History  of  education  (psychology). 

8.  History  of  science  and  philosophy. 

9.  History  of  ethical  theory. 

10.  Comparative  religion. 

11.  Comparative  literature. 

12.  History  and  theory  of  the  fine  arts. 

In  following  out  this  curriculum  the  greatest  care  should 
be  taken  to  avoid  any  imposing  of  any  special  theory  or  doc- 
trine—  religious,  political,  economical,  etc.  —  upon  the  pupils. 
All  theories  should  be  freely  discussed  without  bias,  party 
spirit,  or  passion,  and  every  effort  made  to  elicit  the  truth 
from  the  pupils  themselves.  The  important  thing  is  that  they 
should  learn  to  think  for  themselves,  and  thus  become  morally 
free.    With  a  view  to  this  the  work  of  the  teacher  should 


94 


THOMAS  DAVIDSON 


consist  mostly  in  direction  and  encouragement.  The  less  he 
does  himself,  and  the  more  he  makes  his  pupils  do,  the  better. 
Lecturing  should  be  resorted  to  only  by  way  of  introduc- 
tion ;  then  the  seminary  method  should  be  followed.  As  a 
rule,  some  handy,  compact,  epoch-making  book  should  be 
made  the  basis  of  work,  for  example,  Aristotle's  Politics  for 
political  theory  and  history  ;  then  a  list  of  books  should  be 
given  for  the  pupils  to  analyze,  epitomize,  and  criticise  in 
written  essays,  to  be  read  and  discussed  before  the  class. 
Then  when  difficult  points  come  up  or  deeper  researches 
have  to  be  made  these  should  be  assigned  as  subjects  for 
special  essays.  In  this  way  a  wide  knowledge  of  each  sub- 
ject and  of  its  literature  will  be  gained  and  a  deep  interest 
aroused.1 

The  curriculum  as  a  whole  will  impart  just  the  unitary 
views  of  the  world  and  its  agencies  which  will  give  meaning 
and  zest  to  the  individual  life  and  make  the  good  citizen. 

At  the  close  of  each  study  the  pupils  should  be  asked  to 
sum  up,  in  a  brief  essay  of  not  more  than  five  hundred  words, 
what  they  have  learned  from  it.  This  will  take  the  place  of 
an  examination. 

Having  settled  what  kind  of  culture  is  necessary  for  the 
breadwinners,  we  must  next  consider  how  it  may  be  best 
brought  within  their  reach.  For  this,  two  things  above  all 
are  necessary  :  (i)  that  they  should  know  what  is  proposed, 
and  recognize  its  value  ;  (2)  that  they  should  have  spare  time, 
energy,  and  convenience  for  continued  study. 

The  former  of  these  aims  may  be  reached  through  the 
public  press  —  newspapers,  magazines,  etc.  —  and  through  lec- 
tures, which  are  here  in  order.  It  is  needless  to  dwell  on  the 
efficiency  of  the  press  in  bringing  things  before  the  public ; 
but  a  few  words  may  be  said  about  lectures.  It  would  be  of 
the  utmost  moment  to  arrange  for  a  course  of  ten  lectures, 
covering  as  many  weeks,   and   given   on   some   convenient 

1 1  employed  this  method  in  my  class  last  winter  with  considerable  success. 


LECTURES  TO  THE  BREADWINNERS  95 

evening 1  when  most  of  the  breadwinners  of  the  neighborhood 
could  attend.  The  following  are  suggested  as  titles  for  such 
lectures : 

1.  The  present  state  of  education  among  the  breadwinners, 
and  their  opportunities  for  obtaining  higher  education.  What 
the  schools  do. 

2.  The  education  needed  by  the  breadwinners,  and  how 
it  must  differ  from  school  and  college  education. 

3.  The  education  needed  by  the  individual,  in  order  to 
lift  him  above  narrow,  sordid  ends. 

4.  The  education  needed  for  the  ends  of  the  family. 

5.  The  education  needed  for  the  ends  of  civil  society, 
for  the  tradesman,  the  merchant,  etc.  (1)  Technical  educa- 
tion.   (2)  Moral  training. 

6.  The  education  needed  by  the  citizen. 

7.  The  need  of  unity,  system,  and  aim  in  education.  The 
defects  of  our  present  education  in  this  respect. 

8.  How  can  education  be  carried  into  the  home? 

9.  The  state's  duty  in  regard  to  the  culture  of  the 
breadwinners. 

10.  A  scheme  for  a  breadwinners'  culture  institute,  to 
be  established  in  every  township  and  in  every  city  ward,  to 
supplement  our  public  schools. 

I  cannot  but  think  that,  if  such  a  course  of  lectures  were 
given  at  a  convenient  time  by  competent  persons,  carefully 
reported  in  the  daily  newspapers,  and  afterwards  printed  in 
the  form  of  a  cheap  book,  it  would  meet  with  a  hearty  response 
from  the  breadwinners. 

It  is  necessary,  not  only  that  breadwinners  should  be 
brought  to  desire  higher  culture,  but  also  that  they  should 
have  the  time,  energy,  and  convenience  to  acquire  it.  How 
this  is  to  be  done  is  one  of  the  great  social  questions  of  the 
day,  and  one  that  I  do  not  purpose  to  answer  here ;  but  of 

1  Or  on  Sunday  afternoon.    There  could  hardly  be  any  more  religious  work 
han  this. 


96  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

two  things  I  am  morally  certain  :  (i)  that  it  cannot  effectually 
be  done  by  any  legislation  in  favor  of  an  eight-hour  working 
day,  or  anything  of  that  sort ;  and  (2)  that,  if  the  breadwin- 
ners made  it  evident  that  they  desired  free  time  in  order  to 
devote  it  to  self-culture,  from  which  they  are  debarred  by 
long  hours  of  labor,  public  sentiment  would  soon  insist  that 
such  time  should  be  accorded  them,  and  provisions  made  for 
such  culture.  One  main  reason  why  the  demand  for  shorter 
hours  meets  with  comparatively  little  response  from  the  pub- 
lic, is  the  prevalent  belief  that  a  very  large  number  of  bread- 
winners would  make  a  bad  use  of  the  spare  time,  spending  it 
in  saloons  and  other  coarse  resorts.  Labor,  it  is  said,  is  better 
or  more  profitable  than  idleness  and  saloon  life.  And  there  is 
some  reason  in  this.  Spare  time  demanded  for  culture  would 
most  certainly  be  accorded,  and  it  will,  I  think,  hardly  ever 
be  obtained  on  any  other  plea.  I  need  hardly  add  that  spare 
time  would  bring  with  it  spare  energy  ;  for  it  is  the  long  hours 
that  exhaust  the  energies. 

Along  with  time  and  energy  the  breadwinners  must  have 
home  conveniences  for  study.  Many  of  course  have  these, 
but  many  have  not.  In  crowded  rooms  or  apartments  in  ten- 
ement houses  it  is  hard  to  find  a  quiet  corner  for  study,  and 
the  public  libraries  and  reading  rooms  offer  conveniences  for 
but  a  small  number.  This  state  of  things  must  be  remedied, 
and,  I  think,  would  be  remedied  as  soon  as  there  was  any 
genuine  desire  for  culture.  Persons  inspired  by  this  would 
refuse  to  live  where  they  could  not  have  conveniences  for 
study,  and  would  thus  be  brought  to  demand  a  higher  stand- 
ard of  living,  a  thing  altogether  desirable.  At  the  same  time 
public  reading  rooms  would  doubtless  increase. 

At  the  present  time  we  hear  a  great  deal  about  saloon 
politics  and  the  corruption  that  results  from  them ;  and 
manifold  efforts  are  made  to  start  rivals  to  the  saloon,  which 
a  very  reverend  bishop  has  told  us  is  the  poor  man's  club- 
room.    It  is  sad  to  think  that  the  bishop  is  right,  and  that  the 


LECTURES  TO  THE  BREADWINNERS  97 

poor  man  has  not  been  able,  thus  far,  to  establish  any  other 
sort  of  club  room.  It  is  my  firm  belief  that  the  successful 
rival  of  the  saloon  will  not  be  the  coffee  room,  the  reading 
room,  the  pool  room,  or  the  concert  room,  but  the  lecture 
room  and  the  school  room,  with  their  various  appurtenances 
and  opportunities.  I  believe  that  we  shall  never  be  able  to 
put  a  stop  to  the  deleterious  effects  of  the  saloon  upon  indi- 
vidual, domestic,  social,  and  political  life,  until  we  establish  in 
every  city  ward  and  in  every  village  a  culture  institute  for 
the  great  body  of  the  people  who  are  engaged  in  business 
during  the  day,  — an  institute  composed  of  three  parts  :  (1)  a 
technical  school,1  (2)  a  civic-culture  school,  and  (3)  a  gymna- 
sium. Such  institutions  must  sooner  or  later  be  established 
by  the  state,  and  supported  by  public  funds  as  part  of  the 
system  of  public  education  ;  but  at  present  it  is  well  that 
they  should  be  undertaken  by  private  effort,  and  their  utility, 
yea,  their  necessity,  clearly  shown.  The  Educational  Alliance 
is  in  a  position  to  take  an  important  step  in  this  direction, 
and  it  can  do  so  by  establishing  a  system  of  evening  classes 
with  a  programme  such  as  I  have  sketched,  and  appealing 
to  the  breadwinners  by  a  course  of  lectures  of  the  nature  I 
have  indicated. 

[Signed]  THOMAS    DAVIDSON." 

1  An  excellent  model  for  this  is  the  London  Polytechnic  (in  Regent  Street), 
which  owes  its  existence  to  the  energy  and  generosity  of  one  man,  W.  Q.  Hogg. 
It  has  several  rivals  in  London  now. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

LETTERS    FROM    DAVIDSON     IN     REFERENCE    TO    HIS 
WORK  ON   MEDIEVALISM 

So  far  back  as  December  7,  1882,  long  before  we  met,  I 
had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Davidson  in  reference  to  his  book  on 
Rosmini,  which  he  sent  from  75  Via  Nazionale,  Rome,  and 
in  which  he  said  : 

"...  I  am  really  very  desirous  that  the  system  of  this  phi- 
losopher should  be  brought  to  the  attention  of  men  fitted  to 
judge  of  its  value.  A  life  of  Rosmini  is  about  to  appear,  and 
this  new  essay  in  English  is  more  than  half  printed.  I  am 
now  engaged  on  a  translation  of  the  Psychology,  which  I 
think  is  Rosmini's  most  important  work.  This  will  appear, 
I  trust,  in  the  course  of  next  year. 

Could  you  not  find  a  place  for  a  Rosmini  among  the 
great  names  of  your  philosophical  series  ? 1  If  you  could, 
this  would  bring  the  system  within  the  reach  of  a  wider 
public  than  could  be  done  by  any  means  I  can  now  think  of. 
Will  you,  at  your  leisure,  tell  me  what  you  think  of  the 
suggestion  ? 

I  should  like  also  to  make  another.  I  have  for  many 
years  been  working  up  Heraclitus  (see  my  article  on  him 
in  Johnson's  Encyclopedia),  and  I  should  be  very  glad  if  you 
could  give  my  work  on  him  a  place  in  your  series.  It  is  con- 
siderably advanced  and  could  be  ready  for  the  press  in  six 
months.  I  have  also  collected  materials  for  a  work  on  Par- 
menides,  whose  fragments  I  translated  (in  hexameters)  and 
published  many  years  ago  in  the  Journal  of  Speculative  Phi- 
losophy. ..." 

1  The  series  of  Philosophical  Classics  for  English  Readers,  which  I  organ- 
ized and  edited,  and  of  which  Messrs.  Blackwood  were  the  publishers. 

98 


LETTERS  FROM  DAVIDSON  99 

I  was  unable  to  include  Rosmini  in  the  series  of  books  on 
the  philosophers  which  had  attracted  Davidson's  eye,  while 
Heraclitus  and  Parmenides  lay  outside  its  province  as  designed 
by  me.  But  when  I  was  trying  to  organize  another  and  a 
larger  series,  on  Philosophy  in  its  National  Developments, 
I  tried  to  enlist  his  services,  and  offered  him  the  subject  of 
"  Mediaevalism."    The  following  was  his  reply. 

"  Keene,  Essex  County,  New  York, 
September  8,  1894. 

Your  letter  of  August  28  reached  me  yesterday,  and 
nothing  could  have  been  more  opportune.  My  book  on  The 
Education  of  the  Greek  People,  and  its  Influence  on  Civiliza- 
tion will  be  out  in  a  few  days,  and  I  sail  for  Europe  on  the 
25th  of  this  month.  Although  I  am  at  work  on  a  little  vol- 
ume on  Plato,  intended  as  a  companion  to  that  of  Wallace 
on  Aristotle,  there  is  no  hurry  about  that,  and  I  can  probably 
write  you  a  volume  of  the  size  of  those  in  the  Philosophical 
Classics  Series 1  before  I  return  home. 

I  have  been  working  for  fifteen  years  on  Mediaevalism, 
and  indeed  had  planned  a  volume  such  as  you  propose.  My 
aims  this  winter  will  bring  me  to  the  libraries  of  London, 
Paris,  Berlin,  and  Rome,  and  I  shall  therefore  have  the  best 
opportunities  for  reaching  original  sources  of  information. 
I  shall  therefore  be  glad  to  undertake  the  volume  you 
suggest. 

But  I  shall  have  to  obtain  more  details  with  regard  to  the 
limits  of  my  task  :  how  it  is  to  relate  itself  to  that  of  Well- 
hausen,  for  example,  and  whether  I  am  to  say  anything 
about  Patristicism. 

My  book  on  Rosmini,  chaotic  as  it  was,  has  not  been  with- 
out its  effects,  I  think.  But  there  is  a  mine  there  which  has 
never  been  fully  worked,  and  which  well  deserves  working. 

1  The  volumes  were  to  be  more  than  double  that  size ;  and  as  the  subject 
grew  on  his  hands,  Mr.  Davidson  wished  two  volumes  for  it. 


"V 


ioo  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

In  my  lectures  I  am  always  emphasizing  the  view  that  phi- 
losophy, education,  etc.,  cannot  be  studied  apart  from  the 
entire  life  of  the  people  among  whom  they  arise  and  live. 
I  am  therefore  in  entire  sympathy  with  your  general  idea, 
and  shall  carry  it  out  con  amove. 

Are  you  to  have  a  volume  on  modern  Italian  philosophy? 
It  will  deserve  treatment,  I  think.  .  .  ." 

His  subsequent  letters  to  me  on  the  subject  of  this  work 

were  as  follows : 

"  10  Craven  Street,  Strand,  London, 
October  12,  1894. 

...  I  reached  this  Babylon  on  the  3d,  and  have  been 
toiling  away  in  dirt  and  fog  ever  since.  .   .  . 

I  have  with  me  a  delightful  young  friend,  a  Ph.D.  of  Har- 
vard, the  ablest  philosophical  student  they  ever  had  there. 
May  I  bring  him  to  see  you  ? 

I  have  brought  a  box  of  mediaeval  books  with  me,  and 
shall  soon  settle  down  in  Berlin  to  write  my  book.  But  I 
cannot  begin  till  I  know  my  limits,  e.g.  whether  I  am  to 
include  Patristicism  or  not.  .  .  ." 

•«  Eden  Hotel,  Rome, 

December  25,  1894. 

.  .  .  My  book  has  been  progressing,  and  I  have  collected 
numerous  important  documents  on  medievalism,  both  here 
and  in  Berlin.  I  find  I  must  become  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  Arabism  before  I  can  go  any  farther.  Fortunately,  a 
good  many  books  are  appearing  on  that  subject ;  but  I  am 
going  to  Cairo  next  week  to  make  myself  directly  acquainted 
with  it.1 

I  saw  a  good  deal  of  Prleiderer,  Von  Hartmann,  etc.,  in 
Berlin,  and  here  I  am  seeing  Ferri  almost  every  day.  .  .  ." 

1  His  visit  was  for  the  purpose  of  speaking  Arabic,  while  studying  Arab 
and  Eastern  life,  as  much  as  for  examining  manuscripts  or  consulting  books. 


LETTERS  FROM  DAVIDSON  IOI 

"  Hotel  Suisse,  Rome, 
April  12,  1895. 

...  I  hope  I  shall  be  allowed  to  produce  a  book  in  two 
volumes,  since  in  less  than  that  it  is  impossible  to  do  justice 
to  mediaeval  thought. 

Though  I  have  been  ill  all  winter,  my  book  has  made 
some  progress,  and  I  have  collected  many  books  that  will  be 
of  great  value  to  me.  .  .  ." 

"  Keene,  Essex  County,  New  York, 
May  30,  1895. 

...  I  shall  divide  my  subject  pretty  much  as  you  suggest. 
It  goes  naturally  into  two  well-defined  parts,  sundered  by  the 
introduction  of  the  complete  Aristotle  into  the  West.  But  I 
shall  tell  you  more  of  this  later  on.  I  am  now  at  work  on  the 
earlier  part,  and  it  interests  me  intensely.  It  is  only  now, 
when  we  are  coming  to  know  the  Arab  thinkers,  —  through 
the  publication  of  Dieterici,  Muller,  etc.,  —  that  its  full  sig- 
nificance, and  bearings,  can  be  seen.  My  Arabic  studies  are 
doing  me  yeoman's  service  now." 

[After  mentioning,  and  characterizing,  seven  writers  who 
might  be  intrusted  with  a  volume  on  the  Philosophy  of 
America,  he  continues  :]  "  Come  to  America,  and  let  me 
entertain  you  for  a  few  weeks  in  the  mountains ;  but  do  not 
come  in  March.  Even  April  is  too  early  for  this  part  of  the 
continent.  You  might  spend  a  couple  of  months  in  Florida, 
and  then  come  here  in  June,  when  the  mountains  are  in  all 
their  glory.  March  is  too  late  for  comfort  in  Cairo.  It  was 
hot  enough  even  in  February,  when  I  left.  ..." 

"  Keene,  Essex  County,  New  York, 
October  6,  1895. 

.  .  .  My  book  is  growing  very  satisfactorily.  .  .  .  Inas- 
much as  the  presence  of  dogma,  or  foregone  conclusions 
about   the   highest   things,   is  what   distinguishes   mediaeval 


102  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

thought,  taking  the  place  of  natural  spirit,  I  am  obliged  to 
account  for  dogma,  and  the  fact  of  its  authority;  and  this  will 
occupy  a  good  part  of  the  first  volume,  which  cannot,  I  am 
sure,  reach  further  than  Charlemagne  or  Abelard.  That  vol- 
ume, therefore,  might  be  entitled  Mediaeval  Thought  up  to 
the  Rise  of  Rationalism  in  Abelard ;  and  the  second,  Mediaeval 
Thought  from  Abelard,  and  the  Rise  of  Rationalism  down  to 
Descartes.  I  may  add  a  brief  chapter  on  Rosmini  and  modern 
media; valism.  Alas  !  that  the  philosophic  value  of  the  classical 
mediaeval  philosophy  stands  in  sad  disproportion  to  its  literary 
bulk.  The  achievements  of  Thomas  Aquinas,  for  example,  can 
be  dismissed  in  a  few  pages;  while  Roscelinus,  and  William 
of  Ockham  will  require  a  good  deal  of  attention.  .  .  . 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  warn  you  that  much  of  my  book  will 
necessarily  be  deemed  heterodox.  I  am  dealing  with  philos- 
ophy, not  with  theology,  and  therefore*  of  course  with  simple 
historic  truth.  I  shall  treat  Hebrew  and  Christian  thought 
with  the  same  freedom  as  that  with  which  I  treat  Greek 
thought ;  sympathetically,  but  unawedly.  .  .  . 

[In  this  letter  —  in  answer  to  a  question  by  my  publisher 
as  to  his  principal  works,  to  be  mentioned  in  the  prospectus 
of  writers  for  the  series  —  he  gives  a  list  of  nine  of  them  to 
choose  from,  as  follows  :] 

(i)  Rosmini's  Philosophic  System.  (2)  The  Parthenon 
Frieze,  and  other  Essays.  (3)  Prolegomena  to  In  Memoriam. 
(4)  Aristotle,  and  the  Ancient  Educational  Ideals.  (5)  The 
Education  of  the  Greek  People,  and  its  Effect  on  Civilization. 
(6)  The  Fragments  of  Parmenides  :  translation  and  commen- 
tary. (7)  The  Grammar  of  Dionysius  Thrax  :  translation  and 
commentary.  (8)  The  Eleventh  Book  of  Aristotle's  Meta- 
physics :  translation  and  notes.  (9)  The  Place  of  Art  in 
Education." 


LETTERS  FROM  DAVIDSON  103 

"  Hurricane  Post  Office, 
Keene,  Essex  County,  New  York,  U.S.A., 
September  6,  1896. 

. .  .  My  book  progresses,  but  it  grows  terribly  on  my  hands, 
and  the  condensing  is  no  easy  matter.  I  must  include  in  it  a 
brief  account  of  Arab  thought,  if  I  am  to  make  the  second 
period  of  scholasticism  intelligible.  I  am  not  sure  but  you 
would  do  well  to  let  me  expatiate  on  Oriental  thought,  exclu- 
sive of  the  Hindu,  even  if  I  should  need  another  volume.  I 
have  given  most  of  this  summer  to  Arabism,  its  nature  and 
sources,  and  am  thereby  enabled  to  present  the  whole  course 
and  character  of  scholasticism  in  a  new  light.  I  am  indeed 
enabled  to  show  the  meaning  and  necessity  of  the  entire 
movement.  In  any  case  please  don't  arrange  for  an  Oriental 
volume  until  I  explain  farther  to  you  how  much  I  am  forced 
to  include  in  my  work,  in  order  to  give  it  meaning.  My  book, 
as  I  think  I  told  you,  will  practically  be  a  History  of  the 
Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Principle  of  Authority  in  Thought.  In 
medievalism  authority,  or  dogma,  takes  the  place  of  national 
spirit ;  and  so  I  am  bound  to  account  for  it.  .  .  .  It  is  difficult 
to  say  when  my  book  will  be  finished,  but  I  am  working  on  it 
as  hard  as  I  can.  It  is  a  big  subject ;  and  the  Vorarbeiten  are 
not  numerous,  or  good.  The  ordinary  histories  are  mere  con- 
geries of  facts,  without  internal  connections. 

I  shall  be  extremely  glad  to  see  you  in  America,  and  to 
welcome  you  to  Glenmore.  I  come  here  in  May  and  leave  in 
November,  and  you  shall  be  very  welcome  any  time  in  be- 
tween. The  best-known  « philosophers '  often  find  their 
way  here,  and  one  or  two  of  them  have  summer  houses. 
The  Adirondacks  are  superb  in  scenery,  and  the  air  is  un- 
equaled.  I  am  two  thousand  feet  above  sea  level.  May  is 
the  worst  month  in  the  year  for  you.  September  is  not  much 
better.  And  it  is  against  the  law  for  you  to  come  on  an 
arrangement  made  abroad.  That,  even  in  the  case  of  the 
clergy,  is  construed  as  an  <  importation  of  foreign  labor '  ! 


104  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

One  New  York  congregation  was  fined  a  thousand  dollars 
for  infringing  this  law !  " 

"The  Mansion  House,  Brooklyn,  New  York, 
February  12,  1896. 

...  I  have  written  out  a  first  draft  of  my  whole  book 
in  the  form  of  lectures,  so  as  to  get  its  articulation  clearly 
before  me;  and  have  also  elaborated  the  first  part  of  it.  But 
the  material  and  the  interest  grow  as  I  proceed;  so  that  I 
do  not  get  on  so  fast  as  I  wish.  The  result  will  be  all  the 
better  for  that,  however.  ..." 

"  Keene,  June  16,  1896. 

.  .  .  For  the  real  understanding  of  mediaeval  thought  a 
great  deal  has  to  be  done  at  both  ends  of  it.  We  have  plenty 
of  descriptions  of  mediaevalism,  but  not  one  of  them  tells  us 
why  it  was  what  it   was ;   and   yet  that   is  the  important 

thing " 

"  Keene,  Essex  County, 
June  6,  1897. 

...  I  have  been  almost  completely  used  up  with  the 
'grippe'  (I  have  now  had  it  eight  times),  but  my  book  is  pro- 
gressing. Certain  parts  of  it  are  well  advanced ;  but  until  I 
undertook  it  I  had  no  notion  of  the  difficulties  besetting  the 
task,  nor  the  amount  of  research  and  labor  involved  in  it.  I 
have  bought  and  read  hundreds  of  books  in  the  last  two  years, 
and  the  bottom  is  not  reached  yet.  The  fact  is,  there  are  no 
Vorarbeiten ;  indeed,  there  is  no  single  book  that  really 
gives  an  intelligent,  enlightening  view  of  mediaeval  thought. 
I  could  easily  abridge  Stockl,1  or  expand  Ueberweg-Heinze,2 
but  that  would  be  useless  hack  work.  What  I  am  trying  to 
do  is  to  give  a  living  picture  of  dogma-limited  mediaeval 
thought  in  all  its  relations  and  ramifications,  showing  its  con- 
nection with   Greek,  Roman,  Patristic,  and  Arabic  thought, 

1  Stockl,  A.,   Geschichte  der  Philosophic  des  Mittelalters . 

2  Ueberweg-Heinze,  Grundriss  der  Geschichte  der  Philosophie. 


LETTERS  FROM  DAVIDSON  105 

and  its  influence  on  modern  thought.  I  wish  to  do  something 
that  will  be  a  lasting  contribution  to  science,  and  a  basis  for 
farther  work.  The  subject  is  extremely  interesting,  and  well 
worth  all  the  labor  expended  on  it. 

I  fear  I  must  spend  a  month  in  the  British  Museum  before 
I  can  finish  the  first  volume.  I  am  thinking  of,  coming  over 
in  October.  I  came  near  paying  a  thousand  dollars  for  a  copy 
of  Migne  the  other  day,  but  it  escaped  me.  .  .  ." 

"Pelham  Manor,  Westchester  County,  New  York, 
February  13,  1898. 

[Explains  delay.  The  working  part  of  the  establishment 
at  Glenmore  was  burned  to  the  ground  in  the  summer  of 
1897,  entailing  very  considerable  loss.  To  make  this  up 
Mr.  Davidson  was  obliged  to  do  "some  immediately  paying 
work  "  during  the  following  winter,  and  accordingly  he  wrote 
a  book  on  Rousseau's  educational  system.  Resuming  work 
on  the  History  of  Medieval  Thought,  he  restates  his  diffi- 
culty.] 

The  truth  is,  this  history  has  never  been  written  in  any 
intelligible  way,  and  I  am  trying  to  do  that  thing.  It  requires 
patience,  both  on  your  part  and  on  mine.   ..." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  explain  how  this  book  on  Mediaevalism, 
and  the  series  of  which  it  was  to  have  formed  a  part,  never 
appeared.  It  is  rather  a  long  story,  and  is  scarcely  relevant  to 
Davidson.  But  students  of  philosophy  will  be  interested  in 
the  glimpses  which  these  letters  give  of  the  rise  and  progress 
of  a  great  undertaking;  and  the  general  reader  will  obtain 
some  side  lights  on  the  nature  of  the  problem,  as  it  gradually 
shaped  itself  in  the  mind  of  the  writer.  I  may  mention, 
moreover,  that  I  have  seen  and  examined  in  manuscript  the 
notes  of  a  series  of  thirty-seven  lectures  on  the  "Philosophy  of 
the  Middle  Ages,"  delivered  at  Glenmore,  and  taken  down  by 
a  very  competent  student.   They  could  not  be  printed  as  they 


106  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

now  stand  ;  but  if  other  students  took  down  similar  ones  (as 
many  doubtless  would),  and  if  all  were  submitted  to  a  com- 
petent editor,  —  as  the  manuscript  notes  of  the  lectures  on 
"Logic"  and  "Metaphysics,"  by  Sir  William  Hamilton  at 
Edinburgh,  were  handed  over  to  Professor  Veitch  and  Dean 
Mansel,  —  a  work  of  real  and  lasting  merit  might  be  con- 
structed. 


CHAPTER  XV 
PROFESSOR  WILLIAM  JAMES'S   REMINISCENCES 

Cambridge,  Boston, 

October  21,  1903. 
My  dear  Professor  Knight : 

You  ask  me  to  contribute  to  your  book  something  remin- 
iscential  about  Thomas  Davidson,  and  I  am  glad  to  do  so. 
It  will  do  him  no  honor  not  to  be  frank  about  him.  He  han- 
dled people  without  gloves  himself,  and  one  has  no  right  to 
retouch  his  photograph  until  its  features  are  softened  into 
insipidity.  He  had  defects  and  excesses  which  he  wore  upon 
his  sleeve,  so  that  every  one  could  see  them  immediately. 
They  made  him  many  enemies,  and  if  one  liked  quarreling 
he  was  an  easy  man  to  quarrel  with.  But  his  heart  and  mind 
held  treasures  of  the  rarest.  He  had  a  genius  for  friendship  ; 
money,  place,  fame,  fashion,  and  other  vulgar  idols  of  the 
tribe,  had  no  hold  on  his  imagination ;  he  led  his  own  life 
absolutely,  in  whatever  company  he  might  find  himself  ;  and 
the  intense  individualism  which  he  stood  for  and  taught 
always,  is  the  lesson  of  which  our  generation  stands  perhaps 
most  in  need.  All  sorts  of  contrary  adjectives  come  up  as  I 
think  of  him.  I  will  shrink  from  none,  extenuating  nothing, 
but  trying  also  not  to  exaggerate. 

To  begin  with,  there  was  something  rustic  about  him, 
which  suggested  to  the  end  his  farm-boy  origin.  His  voice 
was  sweet  and  its  cadence  most  musical,  and  the  extraor- 
dinary sociability  of  his  nature  made  as  many  friends  for  him 
among  women  as  among  men  ;  he  had,  moreover,  a  sort  of 
physical  dignity ;  but  neither  in  dress  nor  in  manner  did  he 
ever  grow  quite  "gentlemanly"  or  "  Salonfahig"  in  the  con- 
ventional and  obliterated  sense  of  the  terms.    He  was  too 

107 


108  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

cordial  and  emphatic  for  that.  His  broad  brow,  his  big  chest, 
his  bright  blue  eyes,  his  volubility  in  talk  and  laughter  told 
a  tale  of  vitality  far  beyond  the  common  ;  but  his  fine  and 
nervous  hands  and  the  vivacity  of  his  reaction  upon  every 
impression  suggested  a  degree  of  sensibility  which  one  rarely 
finds  conjoined  with  so  robustly  animal  a  frame. 

The  great  peculiarity  of  Davidson  did  indeed  consist  in 
this  combination  of  the  acutest  sensibilities  with  massive 
faculties  of  thought  and  action.  It  is  a  combination  apt  for 
experience  and  suffering ;  but  when  the  thoughts  and  actions 
are  important  it  gives  to  the  world  its  greatest  men. 

Davidson's  native  mood  was  happy.  He  took  optimistic 
views  of  life  and  of  his  own  share  in  it.  A  sort  of  permanent 
satisfaction  radiated  from  his  face  ;  and  this  expression  of 
inward  glory  (which  in  reality  was  to  a  large  extent  structural 
and  not  "expressive"  at  all)  —  strangely  enough,  the  slight 
intermittent  strabismus  outwards  with  which  one  of  his  eyes 
was  affected  added  to  it  —  was  displeasing  to  many  new 
acquaintances,  who  held  him,  on  account  of  it,  to  be  intol- 
erably conceited.  This  impression  of  self-conceit  was  not 
diminished  in  their  eyes  by  the  freedom  with  which  he  con- 
tradicted, corrected,  and  reprehended  other  people.  I  recollect 
that  a  lady,  who  found  nothing  in  her  with  which  to  meet  this 
radiancy  of  his,  said  that  he  affected  her  as  if  he  were  a  red-hot 
stove  in  the  room,  and  always  made  her  wish  to  get  away 
from  his  presence.  A  longer  acquaintance  invariably  dimin- 
ished this  impression  of  conceit,  but  it  must  be  confessed 
that  Davidson  never  was  exactly  humble-minded,  and  that 
the  solidity  of  his  self-consciousness  withstood  strains  under 
which  that  of  weaker  men  would  have  crumbled.  The  malady 
which  finally  killed  him  (a  complication  of  bladder  troubles) 
is  notoriously  one  of  the  most  exhausting  to  the  nervous  tone 
to  which  our  flesh  is  subject,  and  it  wore  him  out  before  it 
ended  him.  He  told  me  of  the  paroxysms  of  motiveless  nerv- 
ous dread  which  used  to  beset  him  in  the  night  watches. 


PROFESSOR  JAMES'S  REMINISCENCES  109 

Yet  these  never  subdued  his  stalwart  individualism,  or  made 
him  a  "  sick  soul,"  in  the  theological  sense  of  that  appellation. 
"  God  is  afraid  of  me  "  was  the  phrase  by  which  he  described 
his  well-being  to  me  one  morning,  when  his  night  had  been 
a  good  one,  and  he  was  feeling  so  hearty  that  he  thought  he 
might  recover. 

There  are  men  whose  attitude  is  always  that  of  seeking  for 
truth ;  and  men  who,  on  the  contrary,  always  believe  that  they 
have  the  root  of  the  matter  already  in  them.  Davidson  was 
one  of  the  latter  class.  Like  his  countrymen,  Carlyle  and 
Ruskin,  he  felt  himself  to  be  in  possession  of  something, 
whether  articulate  or  as  yet  unarticulated  by  himself,  that 
authorized  him  (and  authorized  him  with  uncommon  openness 
and  frequency)  to  condemn  the  errors  of  others.  I  think  that 
to  the  last  he  never  fully  extricated  this  philosophy.  It  was  a 
tendency,  a  faith  in  a  direction,  which  gave  him  an  active 
persuasion  that  other  directions  were  false,  but  of  which  the 
central  insight,  never  fully  formulated,  remained  in  a  state 
which  Frederic  Myers  would  have  called  subliminal.  He 
varied  to  a  certain  extent  his  watchwords  and  his  heroes. 
When  I  first  knew  him  all  was  Aristotle.  Later  all  was 
Rosmini.  Later  still  Rosmini  seemed  forgotten  ;  and  I  never 
learned  just  what  point  of  view  replaced  that  synthesis  for 
Davidson.  Thomas  Davidson  was  ever  and  always  individual- 
istic and  pluralistic,  yet  never  the  sort  of  empiricist  which,  to 
my  mind,  pluralists  and  individualists  ought  by  right  to  be. 
He  knew  so  many  writers  that  he  grew  fond  of  very  various 
ones,  and  had  a  strange  tolerance  for  systematizers  and  dogma- 
tizers  whom  in  consistency  he  should  have  disliked.  Hegel, 
it  is  true,  he  detested  ;  but  he  always  spoke  with  reverence 
of  Kant.  Of  Mill  and  Spencer  he  had  a  low  opinion ;  and 
when  I  lent  him  Paulsen's  Einleitung  in  die  Philosophie  (then 
just  out),  as  an  example  of  the  kind  of  eclectic  empiricism 
that  seemed  to  be  growing,  and  with  which  I  largely  sympa- 
thized, he  returned  it  with  richer  expressions  of  disdain  than 


HO  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

often  fell  even  from  his  lips:  "It's  the  shabbiest,  seediest 
pretence  at  a  philosophy  I  ever  dreamed  of  as  possible.  It's 
like  a  man  dressed  in  a  black  coat  so  threadbare  as  to  be  all 
shiny.  The  most  poverty-stricken,  out-at-elbows  thing  I  ever 
read,"  etc.  The  truth  is  that  Davidson,  brought  up  on  the 
older  classic  traditions,  always  kept  near  them.  He  was  a 
Platonizer.  His  acquaintance  with  physical  science  was  almost 
wholly  due  to  later  "popular"  literature,  and  he  never  out- 
grew those  habits  of  judging  by  purely  aesthetic  criteria, 
which  men  fed  more  upon  the  sciences  of  nature  are  so  will- 
ing to  dispense  with.  Even  if  a  philosophy  were  true,  he 
would  fail  to  relish  it  unless  it  showed  certain  formal  merits 
and  pretensions  to  finality. 

His  own  philosophy  was,  I  think,  what  to  the  last  he  set 
most  store  by ;  more  than  by  the  prodigious  erudition  which 
came  to  him  so  easily.  The  erudition  probably  interfered  with 
the  articulate  working  out  of  the  philosophy.  Associations 
came  in  such  abundance  when  he  thought  of  anything  that 
he  got  diverted  by  them ;  and,  although  up  to  a  certain  point 
his  writing  was  always  admirably  clear,  I  used  to  think  that  I 
could  recognize  the  very  page  where  he  had  ceased  to  think 
perspicuously,  and  the  end  of  his  articles  was  often,  to  my 
taste,  anything  but  transparent.  His  intellect  in  any  case  was 
not  analytic,  and  perhaps  analysis  is  what  is  most  required  in 
pure  philosophy. 

But  I  am  describing  him  too  much  from  the  standpoint  of 
my  own  profession.  It  is  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  vessel 
of  human  life  that  he  ought  to  be  taken.  I  first  heard  about 
him  in  1873  from  Mr.  Elliot  Cabot,  who  praised  his  learning 
and  manliness  and  great  success  with  pupils.  In  another  year 
he  came  to  Boston,  ruddy  and  radiant,  and  I  saw  much  of 
him,  though  at  first  without  that  thoroughness  of  sympathy 
which  we  afterwards  acquired,  and  which  then  made  us  over- 
flow, on  meeting  after  long  absences,  into  such  laughing  greet- 
ings as  "Ha!  you  old  thief!  Ha!  you  old  blackguard!"  — 


PROFESSOR  JAMES'S  REMINISCENCES  in 

pure  "contrast  effects"  of  affection  and  familiarity  overflow- 
ing their  limit.  At  that  time  I  saw  most  of  him  at  a  little 
philosophical  club  which  used  to  meet  (often  at  his  rooms  in 
Temple  Street)  every  fortnight.  Other  members  were  W.  T. 
Harris,  G.  H.  Howison,  J.  E.  Cabot,  C.  C.  Everett,  B.  P. 
Browne,  and  sometimes  G.  H.  Palmer.  We  never  worked 
out  unanimous  conclusions.  Davidson  used  to  crack  the  whip 
of  Aristotle  over  us;  and  I  remember  that  whatever  topic 
was  formally  appointed  for  the  day,  we  almost  invariably 
wound  up  with  a  quarrel  about  space  perception.  The  club 
had  existed  before  Davidson's  advent.  The  previous  year  we 
had  gone  over  a  good  part  of  Hegel's  larger  logic  under  the 
self-constituted  leadership  of  Messrs.  Emery  and  McClure, 
two  young  business  men  from  Quincy,  Illinois,  who  had  become 
enthusiastic  Hegelians  ;  and,  knowing  almost  no  German,  had 
actually  possessed  themselves  of  a  manuscript  translation  of 
the  entire  three  volumes,  made  by  an  extraordinary  Pomeranian 
immigrant  named  Brockmeyer.  They  were  leaving  business  for 
the  law,  and  studying  at  the  Harvard  Law  School ;  but  they 
saw  the  whole  universe  through  Hegelian  spectacles,  and  a  more 
admirable  homo  unties  libri  than  Mr.  Emery,  with  his  three 
big  folios  of  Hegelian  manuscript,  I  have  never  had  the  good 
fortune  to  know. 

I  forget  how  Davidson  was  earning  his  subsistence  at  this 
time.  He  did  some  lecturing  and  private  teaching,  but  I  do 
not  think  they  were  great  in  amount.  In  the  springs  and 
summers  he  frequented  the  coast  and  indulged  in  long  swim- 
ming bouts  and  salt-water  immersions,  which  seemed  to  agree 
with  him  greatly.  His  sociability  was  boundless,  and  his  time 
seemed  to  belong  to  any  one  who  asked  for  it. 

I  soon  conceived  that  such  a  man  would  be  invaluable  in 
Harvard  University ;  a  kind  of  Socrates,  a  devotee  of  truth 
and  lover  of  youth,  ready  to  sit  up  to  any  hour  and  talk 
with  any  one,  lavish  of  help  and  information  and  counsel,  a 
contagious  example  of  how  lightly  and  humanly  a  burden  of 


112  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

learning  might  be  borne  upon  a  pair  of  shoulders.  In  faculty 
business  he  might  not  run  well  in  harness,  but  as  an  inspira- 
tion and  ferment  of  character,  and  as  an  example  of  the  ranges 
of  combination  of  scholarship  and  manhood  that  are  possible, 
his  influence  among  the  students  would  be  priceless.  I  do 
not  know  whether  this  scheme  of  mine  would  under  any  cir- 
cumstances have  been  feasible.  At  any  rate,  it  was  nipped  in 
the  bud  by  the  man  himself.  A  natural  chair  for  him  would 
have  been  Greek  philosophy.  Unfortunately,  just  at  the 
decisive  hour,  he  offended  our  Greek  department  by  a  savage 
criticism  of  its  methods  (originally  drawn  up,  I  believe,  as  a 
report  to  our  overseers)  which  he  had  published  in  the  Atlantic 
Monthly.  This,  with  his  other  unconventionalisms,  made  advo- 
cating his  cause  more  difficult,  and  the  university  authorities 
never,  I  believe,  seriously  thought  of  an  appointment  for  him. 
I  think  that  in  this  case,  as  in  one  or  two  others  like  it 
which  I  might  mention,  Harvard  University  lost  a  great 
opportunity.  Organization  and  method  mean  something,  but 
contagious  human  characters  mean  more,  in  a  university.  A 
few  undisciplinables  like  Davidson  may  be  infinitely  more 
precious  than  a  faculty  full  of  orderly  routinists.  As  to  what 
he  might  have  become  under  the  conventionalizing  influences 
of  an  official  position,  it  would  be  idle  to  speculate.  As 
things  fell  out,  he  became  more  and  more  unconventional,  and 
even  developed  a  sort  of  antipathy  to  academic  life  in  general. 
It  subdued  individualism,  he  thought,  and  made  for  philistin- 
ism.  He  earnestly  dissuaded  his  young  friend,  Bakewell, 
from  accepting  a  professorship ;  and  I  well  remember  one 
dark  night  on  East  Hill,  after  a  dinner  at  Mr.  Warren's,  the 
eloquence  with  which,  as  we  trudged  downhill  to  Glenmore 
with  our  lantern,  he  denounced  me  for  the  musty  and  moldy 
and  generally  ignoble  academicism  of  my  character.  Never 
before  or  since,  I  fancy,  has  the  air  of  the  Adirondack  wil- 
derness vibrated  more  repugnantly  to  a  vocable  than  it  did 
that  night  to  the  word  "  academicism." 


PROFESSOR  JAMES'S  REMINISCENCES  113 

Yet  Davidson  himself  was  always  essentially  a  teacher. 
He  must  give  forth,  inspire,  and  have  the  young  about  him. 
After  leaving  Boston  for  Europe,  returning  to  New  Jersey, 
and  founding  the  Fellowship  of  the  New  Life  in  New 
York,  he  hit  upon  the  plan  which  pleased  him  best  of  all. 
In  1892,1  or  thereabouts,  he  bought  a  hundred  or  two  acres 
on  East  Hill,  which  closes  the  beautiful  Keene  valley  in 
the  Adirondacks  on  the  north,  and  founded  there,  at  the 
foot  of  Hurricane  Mountain,  his  place  Glenmore  and  its  Sum- 
mer School  of  the  Culture  Sciences.  Although  the  primeval 
forest  has  departed  from  its  immediate  vicinity,  the  region  is 
still  sylvan,  the  air  is  sweet  and  strong  and  almost  Alpine 
in  quality,  and  the  mountain  panorama  spread  out  before 
one  is  superlative.  In  organizing  his  settlement,  Davidson 
showed  a  business  faculty  which  I  should  have  hardly  ex- 
pected from  him.  He  built  a  number  of  houselets,  pretty  in 
design  and  of  the  simplest  construction,  and  disposed  them 
well  for  effect.  He  turned  a  couple  of  farm  buildings  which 
were  on  the  ground  into  a  lecturing  place  and  a  refectory; 
and  there,  arriving  in  early  April  and  not  leaving  till  late  in 
November,  he  spent  the  happiest  portion  of  all  his  later  years, 
surrounded  during  the  summer  months  by  colleagues,  friends, 
and  listeners  to  lectures,  and  in  the  spring  and  fall  by  a  few 
independent  women  who  were  his  faithful  friends,  and  who 
found  East  Hill  a  congenial  residence. 

You  will  no  doubt  have  received  an  account  of  the  work- 
ings of  Glenmore  from  some  one  who  frequented  it  in  summer. 
My  own  visits  were  too  early  or  too  late  for  the  school  to 
be  in  session.  Twice  I  went  up  with  Davidson  to  open  the 
place  in  April.  I  well  remember  leaving  his  fireside  one  night 
with  three  ladies  who  were  also  early  comers,  and  finding  the 
thermometer  at  8°  Fahrenheit  and  a  tremendous  gale  blow- 
ing the  snow  about.  Davidson  loved  these  blustering  vicissi- 
tudes of  climate.    In  the  early  years  the  brook  was  never  too 

1 1 889.  — Ed. 


114  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

cold  for  him  to  bathe  in,  and  he  spent  hours  in  rambling  over 
the  hills  and  through  the  forest. 

His  own  cottage  was  full  of  books,  whose  use  was  free  to 
all  who  visited  the  settlement.  It  stood  high  on  the  hill  in  a 
grove  of  silver  birches,  and  looked  upon  the  western  moun- 
tains ;  and  it  always  seemed  to  me  an  ideal  dwelling  for  such 
a  bachelor  scholar.  Here  in  May  and  June  he  became  almost 
one  with  the  resurgent  vegetation.  Here  in  October  he  was 
a  witness  of  the  jewelled  pageant  of  the  dying  foliage,  and 
saw  the  hillsides  reeking,  as  it  were,  and  aflame  with  ruby 
and  gold,  emerald  and  topaz.  One  September  day  in  1900, 
at  the  "  Kurhaus  "  at  Nauheim,  I  took  up  a  copy  of  the  Paris 
New  York  Herald,  and  read  in  capitals  :  "  Death  of  Professor 
Thomas  Davidson."  I  had  well  known  how  ill  he  was,  yet 
such  was  his  vitality  that  the  shock  was  wholly  unexpected. 
I  did  not  realize  till  that  moment  how  much  that  free  com- 
panionship with  him  every  spring  and  autumn,  surrounded  by 
that  beautiful  nature,  had  signified  to  me,  or  how  big  a  piece 
would  be  subtracted  from  my  life  by  its  cessation. 

Davidson's  capacity  for  imparting  information  seemed  end- 
less. There  were  few  subjects,  especially  humanistic  subjects, 
in  which  at  some  time  or  other  he  had  not  taken  an  interest ; 
and  as  everything  that  had  ever  touched  him  was  instanta- 
neously in  reach  of  his  omnipotent  memory,  he  easily  became 
a  living  dictionary  of  reference.  As  such  all  his  friends  were 
wont  to  use  him.  He  was,  for  example,  never  at  a  loss  to 
supply  a  quotation.  He  loved  poetry  passionately,  and  the 
sympathetic  voice  with  which  he  would  recall  page  upon  page 
of  it  —  English,  French,  German,  or  Italian  —  is  a  thing  I 
shall  always  like  to  remember.  But  notwithstanding  the  in- 
structive part  he  played  in  every  conceivable  conversation, 
he  was  never  prolix,  and  he  never  "lectured." 

From  Davidson  I  learned  what  immunities  a  perfect  memory 
bestows  upon  one.  I  never  could  discover  when  he  amassed 
his  learning,  for  he  never  seemed  occupied.    The  secret  of  it 


PROFESSOR  JAMES'S  REMINISCENCES  115 

was  that  any  odd  time  would  do,  for  he  never  had  to  acquire 
anything  twice  over.  He  avoided  stated  hours  for  work,  on 
principle.  .  .  .  Individualist  a  ontrance,  Davidson  felt  that 
every  hour  was  a  unique  entity  to  whose  claim  on  one's  spon- 
taneity one  should  always  lie  open.  Thus  he  was  never 
abstracted  or  preoccupied,  but  always  seemed  when  with 
you  as  if  you  were  the  one  person  whom  it  was  then  right  to 
attend  to.  It  was  this  individualistic  religion  that  made 
Davidson  so  indifferent,  all  democrat  as  he  nevertheless  was, 
to  socialisms  and  general  administrative  panaceas.  Life  must 
be  flexible.  You  ask  for  a  free  man  and  these  Utopias  give  you 
an  "interchangeable  part,"  with  a  fixed  number,  in  a  rule- 
bound  social  organism.  The  thing  to  aim  at  is  liberation  of 
the  inner  interests.  Given  a  man  possessed  of  a  soul,  and  he 
will  work  out  his  own  happiness  under  any  set  of  conditions. 
Accordingly  when,  in  the  last  year  of  his  life,  he  proposed  his 
night  school  to  young  East  Side  workmen  in  New  York,  he 
told  them  that  he  had  no  sympathy  whatever  with  the  griefs 
of  "labor,"  that  outward  circumstances  meant  nothing  in  his 
eyes,  that  through  their  individual  wills  and  intellect  they 
could  share,  just  as  they  were,  in  the  highest  spiritual  life  of 
humanity,  and  that  he  was  there  to  help  them  severally  to 
that  privilege. 

The  enthusiasm  with  which  they  responded  speaks  volumes 
both  for  his  genius  as  a  teacher,  and  for  the  sanity  of  his 
position.  Leveller  upwards  of  men  as  Davidson  was,  in  the 
moral  and  intellectual  manner,  he  seemed  wholly  without  that 
sort  of  religious  sentiment  which  makes  so  many  of  our  con- 
temporary democrats  think  that  they  ought  to  dip,  at  least, 
into  some  manual  occupation,  in  order  to  share  the  common 
burden  of  humanity.  I  never  saw  him  work  with  his  hands  in 
any  way.  He  accepted  material  services  of  all  kinds  without 
apology,  as  if  he  were  a  born  patrician  ;  evidently  feeling  that 
if  he  played  his  own  more  intellectual  part  rightly,  society 
could  demand  nothing  further. 


Il6  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

His  confidence  that  the  life  of  intelligence  is  the  abso- 
lutely highest  made  Davidson  serene  about  his  outward  for- 
tunes. Pecuniary  worry  would  not  tally  with  his  programme. 
He  had  a  very  small  provision  against  a  rainy  day,  but  he  did 
little  to  increase  it.  He  would  write  as  many  articles  and  give 
as  many  lectures,  talks,  or  readings  every  winter  as  would 
suffice  to  pay  the  year's  expenses,  but  would  thereafter  refuse 
additional  invitations,  and  repair  to  Glenmore  as  early  in  the 
spring  as  possible.  I  could  not  but  admire  the  temper  he 
showed  when  the  principal  building  there  was  one  night  turned 
to  ashes.  There  was  no  insurance  on  it,  and  it  would  cost  a 
couple  of  thousands  of  dollars  to  replace  it.  Excitable  as 
Davidson  was  about  small  contrarieties,  he  watched  this  fire 
without  a  syllable  of  impatience.  Plate  d' argent  n'est  pas 
mortelle,  he  seemed  to  say,  and  if  he  felt  sharp  regrets  he 
disdained  to  express  them. 

No  more  did  care  about  his  literary  reputation  trouble  him. 
In  the  ordinary  greedy  sense  he  seemed  quite  free  from 
ambition.  During  his  last  years  he  had  prepared  a  large 
amount  of  material  for  that  history  of  the  interaction  of 
Greek,  Christian,  Hebrew,  and  Arabic  thought  upon  one 
another  before  the  revival  of  learning,  which  was  to  be  his 
magnum  opus.  It  was  a  territory  to  which,  in  its  totality,  few 
living  minds  had  access,  and  in  which  a  certain  proprietary 
feeling  was  natural.  Knowing  how  short  his  life  might  be  I 
once  asked  him  whether  he  felt  no  concern  lest  the  work 
already  done  by  him  should  be  frustrate  from  the  lack  of  its 
necessary  complement,  in  case  he  was  suddenly  cut  off.  His 
answer  surprised  me  by  its  indifference.  He  would  work  as 
long  as  he  lived,  he  said,  but  would  not  allow  himself  to  worry, 
and  would  look  serenely  at  whatever  might  be  the  outcome. 
This  seemed  to  me  uncommonly  high-minded.  I  think  that 
Davidson's  conviction  of  immortality  had  much  to  do  with 
such  a  superiority  to  accidents.  On  the  surface  and  towards 
small  things  he  was  irritable  enough,  but  the  undertone  of  his 


PROFESSOR  JAMES'S  REMINISCENCES  117 

character  was  remarkable  for  largeness  and  equanimity.  He 
showed  it  in  his  final  illness,  of  which  the  misery  was  really 
atrocious.  There  were  no  general  complaints  or  lamentations 
about  the  personal  situation,  or  the  arrest  to  his  career.  It 
was  the  human  lot  and  he  must  even  bear  it,  so  he  kept  his 
mind  upon  objective  matters. 

But  as  I  said  at  the  outset  the  paramount  thing  in  David- 
son in  my  eyes  was  his  capacity  for  friendship.  His  friends 
were  innumerable,  —  boys  and  girls,  men  and  women,  Jews 
and  Gentiles,  papists  and  protestants,  married  and  single, — 
and  he  cared  deeply  for  each  one  of  them,  admiring  them 
often  too  extravagantly.  How  can  we  describe  those  recurrent 
waves  of  delighted  laughter  which  characterized  his  greetings, 
beginning  from  the  moment  he  saw  you,  and  accompanying 
his  words  continuously,  as  if  his  pleasure  in  you  were  inter- 
minable ?  His  hand,  too,  stretched  out  to  you  when  yards 
away,  so  that  a  country  neighbor  said  it  reached  farther  than 
any  hand  he  ever  met  with.  The  odd  thing  was  that  friend- 
ship in  Davidson  seemed  so  little  to  interfere  with  criticism. 
Persons  with  whom  intercourse  was  one  long  contradiction  on 
his  part,  and  who  appeared  to  annoy  him  to  extermination,  he 
none  the  less  loved  tenderly.  "  He  's  the  most  utterly  selfish 
human  being"  (I  once  heard  him  say  of  some  one)  "whom  I 
ever  knew,  and  comes  from  the  most  illiberal  and  narrow- 
hearted  people,  —  and  yet  he's  the  dearest,  nicest  fellow 
living."  His  enthusiastic  belief  in  any  young  person  who  had 
a  promise  of  genius  was  touching.  Naturally  a  man  who  was 
willing,  as  he  was,  to  be  a  prophet,  always  finds  some  women 
who  are  willing  to  be  disciples.  I  never  heard  of  any  senti- 
mental weakness  in  Davidson  in  this  relation.  They  warmed 
themselves  at  the  fire  of  his  personality,  and  he  told  them 
truths  without  accommodation.  "  You  're  farther  off  from  God 
than  any  woman  I  ever  heard  of."  "  If  you  believe  in  a  pro- 
tective tariff  you  're  in  hell  already,  although  you  may  not 
know  it."     "  You  had  a  fine  hysterical  time  last  night,  didn't 


Il8  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

you,  when  Miss  B was  brought  up  from  the  ravine  with 

her  dislocated  shoulder  ?  "    To  Miss  B herself  he  said,  "  I 

don't  pity  you.  It  served  you  right  for  being  so  ignorant  as 
to  go  there  at  that  hour."  Seldom  did  the  recipients  of  these 
deliverances  seem  to  resent  them. 

What  with  Davidson's  warmth  of  heart  and  sociability  I 
used  to  wonder  at  his  never  marrying.  Two  years  before  his 
death  he  told  me  of  the  reason,  his  unfortunate  young  love 
affair  at  Aberdeen.  Twice  in  later  life,  he  said,  temptation 
had  come  to  him,  and  he  had  had  to  make  his  decision.  When 
it  came  to  the  point  he  had  felt  each  time  that  the  earlier  tie 
was  prohibitive.  "  When  two  persons  have  known  each  other 
as  we  did,"  he  said,  "  neither  can  ever  fully  belong  to  a 
stranger.  So  it  would  n't  do  !  It  would  n't  do  !  It  would  n't 
do !  "  he  repeated,  as  we  lay  on  the  hillside,  in  a  tone  so  mu- 
sically tender  that  it  chimes  in  my  ear  still,  as  I  write  down 
his  confession.  It  can  be  no  breach  of  confidence  to  publish 
it ;  it  is  too  creditable  to  the  profundity  of  Davidson's  moral 
nature.  As  I  knew  him,  he  was  one  of  the  purest  of  human 
beings. 

If  you  ask  me  what  the  value  of  Thomas  Davidson  was, 
what  was  the  general  significance  of  his  life  apart  from  his 
particular  work  and  services,  I  shall  have  to  say  (for  person- 
ally I  never  gained  any  very  definite  light  from  his  more  ab- 
stract philosophy)  that  it  lay  in  the  example  he  set  to  us  all,  of 
how  —  even  in  the  midst  of  this  intensely  worldly  social  system 
of  ours,  in  which  every  interest  is  organized  collectively  and 
commercially  —  a  single  man  may  still  be  a  knight-errant  of  the 
intellectual  life,  and  preserve  freedom  in  the  midst  of  socia- 
bility. Extreme  as  was  his  need  of  friends,  and  faithful  as 
he  was  to  them,  he  yet  lived  mainly  in  reliance  on  his  private 
inspiration.  Asking  no  man's  permission,  bowing  the  knee  to 
no  tribal  idol,  renouncing  the  conventional  channels  of  recog- 
nition, he  showed  us  how  a  life  devoted  to  purely  intellectual 
ends  could  be  beautifully  wholesome  outwardly,  and  overflow 


PROFESSOR  JAMES'S  REMINISCENCES  119 

with  inner  contentment.  Fortunately  this  type  of  man  is 
recurrent,  and  from  generation  to  generation  literary  history 
preserves  examples.  But  it  is  infrequent  enough  for  few  of 
us  to  have  known  personally  more  than  one  example.  I  count 
myself  happy  in  having  known  two.  The  memory  of  Davidson 
will  always  strengthen  my  faith  in  personal  freedom  and  its 
spontaneities,  and  make  me  less  unqualifiedly  respectful  than 
ever  of  "civilization,"  with  its  exaggerated  belief  in  herding 
and  branding,  licensing,  authorizing,  and  appointing,  and,  in 
general,  regulating  and  administrating  the  lives  of  human 
beings  by  system.  Surely  the  individual  person  is  the  more 
fundamental  phenomenon,  and  the  social  institution,  of  what- 
ever grade,  is  secondary  and  ministerial.  The  individual  can 
call  it  to  account  in  a  deeper  sense  than  that  in  which  it  calls 
him  to  account.  Social  systems  satisfy  many  interests,  but  un- 
satisfied interests  always  remain  over,  and  among  them  inter- 
ests which  system  as  such  violates.  The  best  commonwealth 
is  the  one  which  most  cherishes  the  men  who  represent  the 
residual  interests,  and  leaves  the  largest  scope  to  their  activity. 
I  may  say  that  Davidson  seemed  to  find  the  United  States  a 
more  propitious  commonwealth  in  this  regard  than  his  native 
land,  or  other  European  countries. 

Yours  always  truly, 

William  James. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
RECOLLECTIONS   BY   WYNDHAM   R.  DUNSTAN 

Davidson  and  I  first  met  in  London  in  1881,  when  a  few  of 
us  were  actively  engaged  in  promoting  the  study  of  philosophy 
in  London  by  founding  the  Aristotelian  Society,  a  project  in 
which  Davidson  took  great  interest,  although  he  was  debarred 
from  taking  much  part  in  our  proceedings  owing  to  his  few 
and  infrequent  visits  to  London.  The  friendship  thus  begun 
continued,  in  spite  of  separation  for  periods  of  years,  until  his 
death  in  1900. 

Davidson  was  one  of  the  most  learned  and  versatile  of  men. 
His  knowledge  ranged  over  general  philosophy,  metaphysics, 
art,  archaeology,  and  literature  ;  and  was  bounded  by  no  lan- 
guage. His  linguistic  powers  were  remarkable.  He  had  no 
difficulty  in  conversing  in  Latin,  ancient  and  modern  Greek, 
Italian,  German,  and  French.  He  was  so  conversant  with 
Greek  and  Latin  literature  and  ideals,  and  his  discussion  of 
these  subjects  was  so  intimate  and  complete,  that  he  gave 
the  impression  of  having  lived  in  those  ages.  There  were 
moods  in  which  he  himself  lost  all  touch  with  the  modern 
world,  and  his  thoughts  occurred  to  him  in  the  ancient 
tongues.  At  one  period  of  his  life  he  was  subject  to  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  catalepsy,  and  those  about  him  have 
told  me  that  on  recovering  from  these  states  he  invariably 
spoke  in  Greek  or  Latin ;  and  on  one  occasion  he  was  found 
walking  with  merely  a  blanket  round  his  shoulders.  He  ex- 
plained that  he  had  put  on  his  toga  to  go  to  the  bath.  I 
mention  this  incident  in  order  to  emphasize  one  of  the  chief 
characteristics  of  the  man,  namely,  his  intense  sympathy  with 
ancient  life  and  thought. 

120 


RECOLLECTIONS  1 2 1 

The  extent  of  his  philosophical  reading  in  all  languages 
was  remarkable.  He  had  no  mean  knowledge  of  archaeology, 
as  is  evidenced  by  his  essays  published  in  1882  on  the  Par- 
thenon frieze  and  other  subjects,  and  his  contribution  to  the 
discussion  which  arose  on  the  restoration  of  the  Venus  of  Milo 
proposed  by  Kossos  {Academy,  1882,  pp.  273-274). 

His  knowledge  of  English  Literature,  both  in  verse  and 
prose,  was  as  considerable  as  his  appreciation  of  that  of  other 
nations.  He  knew  Shakespeare  as  well  as  he  knew  Dante  ; 
and  no  one  who  had  heard  him  read  Shakespeare  could  fail 
to  be  impressed  by  his  mastery  of  every  shade  and  intricacy 
of  meaning.  Keats  was  one  of  the  English  poets  in  whom  he 
delighted ;  and  his  marvellous  memory  enabled  him  to  recite 
without  hesitation  those  pieces  of  literature  which  had  made 
the  greatest  impression  on  his  mind.  I  shall  never  forget  his 
giving  me  during  a  walk  the  greater  part  of  King  Lear,  and 
on  a  subsequent  occasion  an  impressive  rendering  of  Keats's 
The  Eve  of  St.  Agnes  and  the  Ode  to  a  Grecian  Urn. 

He  knew  Dante  intimately  and  wrote  a  translation  and  com- 
mentary of  Scartazzini's  Hand  Book,  which  was  published  in 
1887.  His  knowledge  of  the  history  of  education  is  not  to  be 
measured  by  his  small  though  excellent  work  on  this  subject. 
He  was  deeply  interested  in  educational  progress,  and  espe- 
cially in  the  development  of  the  Froebelian  system. 

Simple  music  gave  him  great  pleasure,  but  he  was  not  musical 
in  the  ordinary  sense.  Politics  had  little  interest  for  him. 
His  views  on  current  subjects  were  strongly  liberal,  and  in- 
dividualistic. He  had  no  belief  in  socialistic  schemes,  and  was 
a  strong  opponent  of  the  later  German  socialism.  He  took 
great  interest  in  scientific  work,  especially  when  it  touched 
philosophy ;  but  except  from  the  mathematical  side  he  knew 
little  of  its  detail. 

In  personal  appearance  he  was  tall,  broad,  and  of  heavy 
build,  with  reddish  hair  and  complexion,  and  a  flowing  red 
beard,    careless   in   matters   of   dress   and   appearance,    but 


122  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

brimming  over  with  geniality.  Born  in  Aberdeen,  he  exhibited 
many  of  the  physical  and  mental  characteristics  of  the  northern 
Scot,  though,  probably  from  residence  abroad,  he  had  lost 
nearly  all  trace  of  the  familiar  accent.  Warm-hearted  and 
generous  alike  to  the  good  qualities  and  deficiencies  of  his 
friends,  he  was  forcible  in  stating  his  opinions  and  strenuous 
in  argument,  especially  when  opposed,  on  which  occasions 
a  hot  temper  might  reveal  itself ;  but  he  had  no  touch  of 
malice  or  uncharitableness  in  his  nature.  As  a  friend  he  was 
devoted  and  self-sacrificing.  Although  not  attached  to  any 
church,  Davidson  was  a  deeply  religious  man,  with  a  firm 
belief  in  God  in  a  somewhat  pantheistic  sense,  and  an  equally 
firm  conviction  as  to  immortality.  Writing  to  me  from 
Capri  in  1883  he  said:  "To  me,  for  one,  the  eternity  of  the 
individual  soul  is  no  dogma,  but  a  fact  as  clearly  demonstrated 
as  any  in  mathematics.  And  not  only  so,  but  it  is  the  most 
important  of  all  facts,  and  the  one  we  can  least  afford  to  be  in 
doubt  about.  False  philosophy,  subjectivism,  materialism,  and 
the  rest,  have  rendered  the  demonstration  of  the  eternity  of 
the  individual  so  difficult  that  it  has  become  a  sort  of  mark  of 
intellectual  superiority  either  to  scout  the  question  altogether, 
or  to  talk  about  it  in  a  jargon  which  is  nothing  less  than 
dishonest.  It  seems  strange  that  while  so  much  attention 
is  being  given  to  the  laws  of  forces  which  are  only  of  doubt- 
ful existence  —  such  as  those  of  the  atoms  and  molecules 
of  gases,  —  so  little  should  be  done  to  understand  that  force 
of  which  we  are  directly  conscious,  the  force  which  is  our 
own  soul." 

Those  who  are  familiar  with  Rosmini's  restatement  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  actus  purus  of  the  schoolmen  will  recognize 
Davidson's  acceptance  of  this  view,  to  which,  so  far  as  I  am 
aware,  he  adhered  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

In  1 88 1  Davidson  was  a  recent  convert  to  the  philosophy 
of  Rosmini,  an  Italian  priest  who  was  a  reformer  within  the 


RECOLLECTIONS  123 

Church  of  Rome  and  in  this  connection  best  known  in  this 
country,  his  work  entitled    The  Seven  Wounds  of  the  Holy 
Ckufch  having  been  translated  into   English  with  a  preface 
by  Canon  Liddon.    Rosmini  was,  however,  also  a  metaphysi- 
cian of  a  high  order.    His  System  of  Philosophy  and  Psychol- 
ogy was  translated  into  English  and  edited  by  Davidson.    The 
philosophy  of  Rosmini  may  be  regarded  as  a  restatement  of 
the  scholasticism  of  St.  Thomas  and  the  schoolmen,  in  the 
light  of  Hegelianism  and  later  German  philosophy.    Such  a 
system  had  every  attraction  for  Davidson.    Deeply  versed  as 
he  was  in  Greek  philosophy,  with  a  profound  knowledge  of 
Aristotle  as  well  as  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  and  the  school- 
men, and  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  classical  spirit,  David- 
son welcomed  Rosmini' s  system  as  a  means  of  reconciling  the 
older  philosophy  and  the  later  German  metaphysics,  which  he 
had  also  mastered,  and  whose  subtlety  he  fully  appreciated 
and  admired  ;  though  he  refused  to  accept  them  as  a  system 
of  philosophy  capable  of  being  made  the  basis  of  ethical  and 
practical  action. 

The  following  extracts  from  some  of  Davidson's  letters  to 
me  are  characteristic  and  interesting,  as  showing  his  philosoph- 
ical position. 

"I  am  interested  to  hear  that  you  are  reading  Spinoza's 
Ethics.  It  is  the  most  wonderful  piece  of  dogmatism  per- 
petrated in  modern  times.  Hegel  calls  it  der  wesentliche 
Anfang  alles  philosophisches.  ...  I  do  not  find  any  difficulty 
with  Spinoza's  "substance,"  but  this  comes  from  my  familiarity 
with  the  Greek  ovala  and  inrotceLfAevov  and  the  scholastic  actus 
purus.  In  my  opinion  it  is  the  want  of  power  to  grasp  the 
concept  —  this  concept  of  an  immanent  nontransient  act  — 
that  leads  modern  thought  so  wildly  astray  into  all  the  vagaries 
of  relativity.  Get  once  into  your  mind  the  thought  that  being 
is  an  act  (not  an  action)  and  all  the  talk  about  universal  rela- 
tivity becomes  pure  nonsense.  The  questions  how  we  come  to 


124  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

cognize  substance,  and  what  substance  is  when  it  is  cognized, 
are  very  different  although  they  are  almost  always  confused. 
It  is  entirely  true  that  without  light  I  should  never  become 
conscious  of  darkness,  but  after  I  am  conscious  of  darkness  I 
can  think  of  it  perfectly  well  without  thinking  of  light  at  all. 
In  the  same  way,  though  it  requires  one  or  more  of  those 
transient  actions  which  we  call  properties  or  accidents  to 
make  me  conscious  of  the  immanent  act  we  call  substance, 
nevertheless,  once  I  am  conscious  of  substance  I  can  think  of 
it  perfectly  well  without  the  notion  of  accident.  The  tran- 
sient exists  only  to  make  us  conscious  of  the  eternal.  .  .  . 
Hegel's  account  of  Spinozism  is  not  bad.  Have  you  read 
what  Goethe  says  about  the  effect  on  him,  in  Dichtung  und 
Wahrheit  ?  " 

As  to  Kant  he  writes  :  "  I  am  rather  amused  that  you 
could  read  so  much  of  the  Kritik.  After  one  has  discovered 
its  fundamental  error  the  rest  are  seen  to  follow  naturally 
and  are  hardly  worth  going  into.  Since  the  world  began 
there  never  was  such  a  piece  of  huge,  solemn  humbug  as 
German  philosophy.  The  land  of  beer  never  did  produce  but 
one  great  thinker  and  that  was  Leibniz." 

A  metaphysician  who  had  read  deep  and  widely,  and  an 
acute  dialectician,  Davidson's  guiding  motive  in  later  life  was, 
nevertheless,  the  practical  one  of  founding  a  new  society  on 
an  intellectual  basis.  In  earlier  life  he  had  made  himself 
acquainted  with  the  best  that  had  been  said  and  done  in  reli- 
gion, philosophy,  art,  and  literature,  and  his  rare  intellectual 
ability,  his  remarkable  power  of  memory  and  exposition,  and 
his  attractive  personality  combined  to  make  him  feel  that  he 
might  be  able  to  bring  into  existence  a  new  brotherhood 
which  in  time  might  grow  and  exercise  a  profound  influence 
for  good.  Ultimately  this  lofty  ambition  actuated  all  that 
Davidson  undertook.  He  surrounded  himself  with  a  group  of 
young  men  of  intellectual  distinction  to  whom  he  looked  for 
aid  in  this  work,  and  he  rallied  about  him  some  of  his  older 


RECOLLECTIONS  125 

friends  who  in  various  ways  were  to  give  him  help.  Impatient 
of  traditions  and  conventionalities  of  all  kinds  he  ultimately 
saw  his  best  chance  of  success  in  America,  a  country  to  which 
he  had  always  been  much  attracted.  He  writes  to  me :  "  A 
few  of  us  are  seriously  thinking  of  attempting  to  unite  on  the 
highest  grounds  for  mutual  help  toward  a  rational  life  and  for 
the  bringing  about  of  the  conditions  necessary  in  order  to 
make  that  life  possible  for  people  generally.  Don't  be  fright- 
ened if  the  theory  at  first  seems  Utopian.  That  word  is  gen- 
erally pronounced  with  a  sneer ;  but  after  all  it  is  a  Utopia 
that  we  want.  I,  for  one,  utterly  despair  of  reforming  men  by 
legislation  which  at  best  only  takes  from  one  selfish  horde  and 
gives  to  another.  What  we  ought  to  do  is  to  let  all  reason- 
ably liberal  government  alone  and  make  use  of  the  freedom 
and  protection  they  afford  in  order  to  unite  for  the  purpose 
of  making  life  what  it  should  be.  I  know  of  nothing  so  well 
worth  doing,  nothing  that  would  give  life  so  much  elevation, 
as  the  formation  of  a  society  for  the  purpose  of  making 
every  man  as  far  as  possible  the  heir  of  all  the  moral,  artistic, 
and  intellectual  property  of  the  race." 

And  again  in  a  later  letter  :  "  I  think  the  time  has  come  for 
formulating  into  a  religion  and  rule  of  life  the  results  of  the 
intellectual  and  moral  attainments  of  the  last  two  thousand 
years.  I  cannot  content  myself  with  this  miserable  blind  life 
that  the  majority  of  mankind  is  at  present  leading  and  I  do 
not  see  any  reason  for  it.  Moreover  I  do  not  see  anything 
really  worth  doing  but  to  show  men  the  way  to  a  better  life. 
If  our  philosophy,  our  science,  and  our  art  do  not  contribute 
to  that,  what  are  they  worth  ?  " 

Davidson's  attachment  to  Rosmini's  philosophical  views 
had  led  some  to  suppose  that  he  might  eventually  join  the 
Church  of  Rome,  which  he  respected  and  in  a  sense  even 
venerated,  and  which  had  given  every  encouragement  to  his 
work  on  Rosmini.  It  was  certainly  an"  interesting  spectacle  in 
the  early  eighties  to  find  Davidson  in  friendly  communication 


126  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

with  the  Pope  and  the  Cardinals  in  Rome  and  received  lit- 
erally with  open  arms  by  the  priests  and  votaries  of  the  Ros- 
minian  order  throughout  Italy.  I  spent  the  summer  of  1882 
with  him  at  his  villa  above  Domodossola,  near  the  Rosminian 
monastery  to  which  we  constantly  went  to  discuss  philosophi- 
cal questions  with  the  learned  fathers  of  the  order,  with  whom 
Davidson  was  on  the  most  friendly  terms ;  though,  so  far  as  I 
am  aware,  he  never  attended  any  of  their  religious  services. 
Between  him  and  Pope  Leo  XIII  there  was  much  common  intel- 
lectual ground.  Both  had  consummate  knowledge  of  Aristotle 
and  the  schoolmen,  both  were  anxious  to  influence  through 
philosophy  the  materialistic  trend  of  current  thought,  and  both 
had  been  influenced  by  the  Rosminian  philosophy.  During 
my  visits  to  Davidson  in  Rome  and  in  Domodossola  I  saw 
much  of  those  who  represented  the  intellectual  movement  in 
the  Roman  Church,  to  whom  Davidson  was  a  persona  grata 
as  a  layman  who  understood  and  sympathized  with  the  philos- 
ophy  to  which  they  looked  for  a  justification  of  the  doctrines 
of  the  Holy  Church.  I  have,  however,  no  reason  to  believe 
that  the  idea  of  accepting  the  religious  doctrines  of  Rome  was 
ever  present  to  Davidson's  mind.  Certainly  no  one  who  knew 
him  could  consider  such  an  event  even  as  a  possible  contin- 
gency. However  this  may  be,  ten  years  later,  in  1894,  he 
writes  to  me  :  "  Have  you  read  the  Pope's  last  Encyclical  on 
the  reunion  of  Christendom  ?  If  not,  do  so ;  it  is  wonderful 
in  its  way  and  may  mean  something.  I  shall  be  in  Rome  in 
the  spring.  And  how  good  it  would  be  again  to  play  cicerone 
to  you  in  the  '  eternal  city '  !  Many  of  my  old  friends  there 
are  dead  and  gone ;  but  enough  are  left,  I  trust,  to  make  a 
stay  pleasant  and  profitable  in  social  ways.  I  am  afraid  I 
shall  be  less  popular  than  I  used  to  be  in  Catholic  circles, 
seeing  that  I  have  not  been  converted  within  the  proper  time 
limits.  But  there  are  circles  of  far  greater  interest  in  Rome. 
Since  I  came  here  I  have  written  an  article  on  the  'The 
Democratisation  of  England '  for  the  Forum.    I  rather  think 


RECOLLECTIONS  1 2  7 

you  will  like  it.  I  have  tried  to  be  very  fair.  I  am  soon  going 
to  write  one  on  the  present  condition  of  Germany  —  and  it 
will  not  be  flattering  !  " 

We  were  in  Rome  together  in  1895.  Davidson  was  again 
full  of  his  plans  for  the  formation  of  an  intellectual  brother- 
hood. His  lectures  in  the  States  during  the  winter  had  been 
well  attended,  and  the  summer  school  he  had  started  at  Glen- 
more  in  the  Adirondacks  was  growing  in  popularity,  and 
was  rallying  round  him  thoughtful  men  and  women  from 
the  American  cities.  "America,"  "Intellectual  free  thought," 
and  "  Individualism  "  were  now  his  watch-words.  Two  years 
later,  in  the  summer  of  1897,  I  stayed  with  him  at  Glenmore 
when  the  summer  school  was  in  full  activity,  Davidson  liv- 
ing in  a  wooden  house  on  the  summit  of  a  hill,  surrounded 
with  his  books,  whilst  in  and  around  the  village  visitors  from 
various  parts  of  the  States  had  taken  primitive  accommoda- 
tions for  the  summer.  The  community  met  daily  in  a  large 
building  where  meals  were  taken  together,  lectures  were 
given  by  Davidson  and  his  friend,  and  readings  and  discourses 
took  place.  Our  host  was  at  once  the  philosopher,  friend,  and 
counsellor,  and  evidently  exerted  a  great  influence  on  those 
who  thus  came  into  close  contact  with  him.  The  photograph 
of  Davidson  sitting  outside  his  home  at  Glenmore  was  taken 
about  this  time,  and  was  given  to  me  as  a  memento  of  my  visit. 

To  me,  as  to  several  of  his  friends,  it  seemed  that  David- 
son's striking  abilities  might  have  found  expression  in  a  more 
suitable  environment,  and  that  the  work  he  was  doing  might 
have  been  left  to  others  to  do.  Efforts  to  induce  him  to 
return  to  university  life,  where  his  great  knowledge  and  influ- 
ence would  have  been  turned  to  the  best  account,  were  of  no 
avail.  His  aversion  to  tradition  and  convention  had  become 
more  intense  and  he  felt  that  university  life  was  no  longer 
possible  for  him.  With  his  great  and]  versatile  learning  and 
his  rare  intellectual  distinction  there  was  associated  a  paltry 
nomadic  tendency  as  well  as  a  strong  desire  to  be  influenced 


128  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

by  as  well  as  to  influence  current  thought  at  all  its  centers. 
His  life  for  years  had  been  divided  between  New  York,  Lon- 
don, Rome,  Paris,  and  Berlin.  In  these  and  other  places  he 
had  his  friends  who  always  welcomed  his  periodical  visits  and 
were  glad  to  hold  converse  with  his  vigorous  mind.  For 
money  and  worldly  position  he  had  no  concern  whatever. 
His  permanent  means  were  very  slight  indeed,  and  his  simple 
tastes  enabled  him  to  depend  upon  the  precarious  and  small 
pecuniary  results  of  lecturing  and  writing. 

Davidson  wrote  a  clear  and  forcible  style,  but  those  who 
know  only  his  more  serious  contributions  to  philosophical 
literature  would  scarcely  believe  that  he  could  also  write  with 
brilliancy  in  a  lighter  vein.  For  some  years  he  was  an  occa- 
sional contributor,  often  anonymous,  to  a  large  number  of 
magazines  and  reviews  both  in  this  country  and  in  the  United 
States.  The  article  now  reprinted,  entitled  "A  Summer 
Solitude  in  the  Italian  Alps,"  appeared  anonymously  in  1882 
in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette}  It  gives  a  delightful  description 
of  his  life  at  Domodossola.  Another  article,  "A  Lodging  with 
a  Greek  Priest,"  appeared  in  the  same  place  in  the  same  year. 
I  have  selected  these  two  articles  as  representing  Davidson's 
versatility  and  the  charm  of  his  style,  as  well  as  his  power 
of  picturesque  description.  Davidson  was  a  voluminous  and 
delightful  correspondent.  For  many  years  he  and  I  corre- 
sponded with  regularity,  and  I  have  given  some  excerpts 
from  his  numerous  letters. 

Reference  has  been  made  to  Davidson's  wide  acquaintance 
with  poetry.  He  himself  wrote  verse  occasionally  and  some 
of  it  was  printed  anonymously.  The  sonnet  appealed  to  him 
as  a  mode  of  expression,  and  in  concluding  this  brief  sketch 
I  cannot  do  better  than  quote  a  sonnet  Davidson  wrote  soon 
after  the  death  of  Arthur  Amson,  a  young  student  to  whom 
he  was  devotedly  attached,  and  whom  he  took  with  him  to 
Leipzig,  to  study  archaeology  under  Overbeck,  where  he  died 

1  See  Appendix  D,  page  231. 


RECOLLECTIONS  1 29 

at  the  age  of  twenty.  This  sonnet  was  printed  in  the  front 
of  the  volume  called  The  Parthenon  Frieze  and  Other  Essays, 
which  has  a  touching  dedication  to  Amson. 

Upon  a  broken  tombstone  of  the  Prime, 

When  youths,  who  loved  the  gods,  were  loved  again 
And  rapt  from  sight,  two  human  forms  remain. 
One,  shrunk  with  years  and  hoary  with  their  rime, 
Gropes  for  the  hand  of  one  who  sits  sublime 

And,  calm  in  large-limbed  youth,  prepares  to  drain 
The  cup  of  endless  life.     In  vain  !  in  vain  ! 
He  cannot  reach  beyond  the  screen  of  time. 
So,  Arthur,  as  our  human  years  go  by, 

I  stand  and  blindly  grope  for  thy  dear  hand, 
And  listen  for  a  whisper  from  thy  tongue. 
In  vain  !  in  vain  !  I  only  hear  Love  cry : 

"  He  feasts  with  gods  upon  the  eternal  strand  ; 

For  they  in  whom  the  gods  delight  die  young." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    MORAL  ASPECTS  OF   THE   ECONOMIC   QUESTION: 

A  LECTURE   READ   BY   MR.  DAVIDSON    BEFORE 

THE   FELLOWSHIP  OF  THE   NEW  LIFE, 

IN   NEW  YORK 

In  considering  this  subject,  I  shall  set  out  with  two  assump- 
tions :  first,  that  human  life  does  not  consist  in  material  pos- 
session ;  second,  that  it  does  consist  in  free  spiritual  activity, 
of  which,  in  this  life  at  least,  material  possession  is  an 
essential  condition. 

If  there  be  any  one  here  who  does  not  admit  these  postu- 
lates, any  one  who  holds  that  human  life  consists  in  having 
and  holding,  and  not  in  being ;  that  man  lives  to  eat,  and 
does  not  eat  to  live  a  human,  that  is,  a  rational  life ;  if  there 
be  any  one  who  holds  that  political  economy  is  the  whole 
science  of  human  life,  then  no  conclusion  at  which  I  may 
arrive  will  have  any  meaning  or  cogency  for  him. 

There  are  certain  great  advantages  in  the  division  of  labor, 
and  especially  of  scientific  labor ;  but  there  are  also  certain 
great  disadvantages.  If  we  look  closely  at  these,  we  shall 
find  that  the  former  are  mostly  in  the  way  of  material  results, 
the  latter  in  the  way  of  spiritual  ones.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  by  dividing  labor  —  whether  industrial,  artistic, 
or  scientific  —  we  obtain  larger  and,  to  some  extent,  better 
immediate  results  than  we  should  if  every  man  performed 
every  kind  of  labor.  Ten  men  devoting  themselves  each  ex- 
clusively to  one  trade  will  produce  more  and  better  results 
than  if  each  undertook  to  exercise  all  the  ten  trades.  So 
likewise  ten  scientific  men,  devoting  themselves  each  exclu- 
sively to  one  branch  of  science,  will  attain  greater  and  more 

130 


MORAL  ASPECTS  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION     131 

accurate  results  than  if  they  scattered  themselves  each  over 
ten  branches  of  science.  But  in  both  cases  these  manifest 
advantages  will  necessarily  entail  certain  disadvantages.  The 
man  who  devotes  himself  exclusively  to  one  trade  will  have 
a  much  narrower  range  of  developed  capabilities,  a  much  dim- 
mer notion  of  the  relation  of  trade  to  trade,  and  be  much 
less  independent  of  social  arrangements  than  if  he  could 
exercise  ten  trades,  even  in  an  indifferent  manner.  So  like- 
wise the  scientific  man  who  spends  his  whole  life  in  studying 
one  branch  of  science  —  say  astronomy  or  mathematics  — 
will  have  a  much  narrower  culture,  a  much  vaguer  notion  of 
the  whole  range  of  science,  and  of  the  interrelation  of  its 
various  parts,  than  if  he  were  fairly  well  conversant  with  ten 
branches  of  science.  I  know  a  man  who  has  ladled  tar  for  over 
thirty  years,  and  he  does  it  to  perfection ;  but,  if  there  were 
no  tar  ladling  to  do,  I  doubt  whether  he  could  make  his  living. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  once  knew  a  man  in  a  wild  region  of 
Minnesota,  who  built  his  own  house,  having  first  made  his 
own  bricks,  and  felled  and  sawed  his  own  wood ;  who  dug  his 
own  well,  made  his  own  pump  and  put  it  in,  built  his  own 
barn,  cultivated  his  own  farm,  caught  his  own  fish,  built  the 
steamer  that  crossed  the  neighboring  lake  (all  but  the  engine), 
made  sets  of  teeth,  was  dentist  and  physician  to  the  people 
for  leagues  around,  and  preached  every  Sunday  to  his  neigh- 
bors. This  man  was,  of  course,  intelligent,  shrewd,  and  inde- 
pendent. He  did  nothing  supremely  well,  but  he  did  everything 
fairly  well ;  and  lived  a  good,  healthy,  active,  manly,  human 
life.  I  need  not  say  that  he  was  a  Yankee.  In  like  manner 
I  know  a  man  who,  though  one  of  the  first  astronomers  of  our 
day,  is  in  reality  an  intellectual  child  and  a  boor,  with  no  broad 
or  humane  notions  about  anything  ;  and  I  could  name  another 
man  who,  though  knowing  no  science  supremely  well,  has  so 
much  knowledge  about  all  the  sciences  that  his  opinion  re- 
garding any  scientific  question,  whether  in  the  region  of  phys- 
ics, morals,  or  metaphysics,  is  of  great  value.  He  is  a  man 
of  culture. 


132  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

It  appears  then  that  by  division  of  labor,  while  there  may- 
be much  economic  gain,  there  is  considerable  intellectual  and 
moral  loss.  Such  division,  while  adding  to  man's  possessions, 
tends  to  dwarf  and  cripple  him.  It  is  perhaps  worth  while 
to  inquire  at  what  point  the  loss  exceeds  the  gain,  and  to 
stop  division  of  labor  just  short  of  that  point.   .  .  . 

Political  economy  has  thus  far  begun  at  the  wrong  end. 
It  has  assumed  certain  economic  conditions,  and  asked  what 
is  their  natural  result ;  afterwards  accepting  the  result,  and 
the  conditions,  as  if  they  were  necessary.  A  true  political 
economy  will  begin  by  stating  what  sort  of  possible  result 
we  wish  to  reach,  and  then  inquiring  under  what  economic 
conditions  this  result  can  be  best  realized.  For  political 
economy  is  a  practical  science,  and  not  merely  a  theoretical 
one.  It  is  a  deontologic  science,  a  science  of  what  ought 
to  be,  and  only  indirectly  an  historical  science,  a  science  of 
what  is  or  has  been.  Political  economy  is  a  branch  of  Ethics, 
not  a  branch  of  natural  science  like  zoology,  with  which  a 
certain  superficial  and  arrogant  school  of  thought  classes  it. 

One  of  the  avowed  and  cardinal  assumptions  of  the  political 
economy  of  selfishness  is  this,  that  every  man  tries  to  obtain 
as  much  of  the  means  of  satisfaction  as  he  can,  with  the 
smallest  possible  amount  of  labor.  Along  with  this  it  makes 
the  tacit  assumption  that  means  of  satisfaction  are  wealth, 
and  that  the  more  material  wealth  a  man  has  the  greater  is 
his  power  of  satisfying  his  desires.  It  makes  also  the  further 
assumption  that  trouble  and  labor  are  synonymous  terms, 
and  hence  that  labor  is  pain,  submitted  to  only  for  the  sake 
of  subsequent  pleasure. 

Now  all  these  assumptions  rest  upon  a  mere  fundamental 
assumption  that  man  is  simply  an  animal  whose  sole  desire  is 
to  satisfy  his  animal  appetites.  But  I  set  out  with  the  con- 
trary assumption  that  man  is  a  rational  being  whose  true  sat- 
isfaction is  found  in  spiritual  activity.  Spiritual  activity,  let  me 
now  add,  consists  of  three  things,  —  first,  pious  intelligence ; 


MORAL  ASPECTS  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION     133 

second,  unselfish  love;  third,  practical  energy;  guided  by  intelli- 
gence and  love  to  universal  ends.  Upon  my  assumption  all  the 
three  assumptions  of  the  economy  of  selfishness  fall  to  the 
ground,  being  entirely  incompatible  with  a  moral  element  in 
man's  nature.  Let  us  consider  these  assumptions,  beginning 
with  the  second. 

Is  it  in  any  sense  true  that,  to  a  moral  being,  the  only 
means  of  satisfaction  is  wealth,  and  that  the  more  wealth  he 
has,  the  more  readily  he  can  satisfy  his  desires  ?  Is  it  true 
that  all  satisfactions  can  be  obtained  for  material  wealth  ? 
Is  it  true  that  even  any  of  the  highest  satisfactions  can  be 
bought  for  it  ?  Will  wealth  buy  a  pure  heart,  a  clean  con- 
science, a  cultivated  intellect,  a  healthy  body,  the  power  to 
enjoy  the  sublime  and  the  beautiful  in  nature  and  in  art,  a 
generous  will,  an  ever  helpful  hand ;  these  deepest,  purest 
satisfactions  of  human  nature  ?  Nay,  not  one  of  these  things 
can  be  bought  for  all  the  wealth  of  ten  thousand  worlds ; 
and  not  only  so,  but  the  very  possession  of  wealth  most  fre- 
quently stands  in  the  way  of  their  attainment.  It  is  easier 
for  a  loaded  camel  to  pass  through  the  little  night-gate,  called 
the  Needle's  Eye,  than  for  a  man  loaded  with  wealth  to  enter 
the  city  of  true,  human,  spiritual  satisfaction.  The  material 
will  not  buy  the  immaterial,  for  they  have  no  common  meas- 
tire ;  and  all  man's  deepest  satisfactions  are  drawn  from  the 
immaterial.  There  is  not  a  virtue,  or  a  high  human  satisfac- 
tion, that  has  not  been  attained  without  wealth,  and  very  few 
of  them  have  been  attained  with  it.  This  is  an  old  story, 
taught  as  a  lesson  for  thousands  of  years  ;  but  we  have  hardly 
yet  begun  to  learn  it.  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain 
the  whole  world,  and  be  a  mean,  contemptible,  human  pig, 
finding  satisfaction  only  in  varnished  swinishness  ?  My  God ! 
I  had  rather  be  a  free  wild  boar,  basking  and  battening  in 
the  breezy  woods,  without  a  soul  and  without  a  mind,  than, 
having  a  soul  and  a  mind,  prostitute  them  in  grovelling 
for  wealth,  and  craving  the  satisfactions  which  it  can  give. 


134  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

It  is  not  true,  then,  that  wealth  is  the  only  means  of  sat- 
isfaction, or  that  true  human  satisfaction  bears  any  ratio 
to  wealth. 

Again,  is  it  true  that  labor  is  necessarily  trouble  and  pain  ? 
Let  us  see.  I  know  of  no  sadder  and  more  humiliating  reflec- 
tion upon  the  position  of  labor  in  our  time  and  country,  no 
clearer  proof  of  the  moral  degradation  entailed  by  our  present 
economic  system,  than  the  prevalent  conviction  that  labor  is 
pain  and  trouble.  We  hear  a  great  deal  declaimed  about  the 
honorableness  of  labor,  as  if  that  were  a  fine  new  sentiment 
instead  of  being  something  which  it  is  a  disgrace  ever  to  have 
doubted  ;  but  we  hear  hardly  a  word  about  the  delights  and 
satisfactions  of  labor.  And  the  reason  is,  alas !  that  there 
are  no  delights  or  satisfactions  in  it. 

But  is  this  state  of  things  a  necessity  ?  Or  is  it  only  a 
temporary  result  of  an  evil  system  ?  There  is  not  a  shadow 
of  doubt  about  the  matter.  Labor  is  not  in  itself  pain  and 
trouble,  and  it  is  only  a  wicked  and  perverse  economy  that 
now  makes  it  so.  Labor,  on  the  contrary,  under  a  wise  econ- 
omy, is  to  every  rational  being  a  pleasure  ;  not  something  to 
be  avoided,  but  something  to  be  sought.  Labor  with  a  view 
to  good  ends  is  rational  man's  natural  occupation.   .  .  . 

To  say  that  wealth  is  whatever  is  useful  or  agreeable,  or 
to  say  that  wealth  is  whatever  has  an  exchange  value  and 
satisfies  desires,  is  no  human  definition  of  wealth.  The  former 
is  a  foolish,  the  latter  a  mere  animal,  definition.  There  is  no 
definition  of  wealth  possible  save  in  terms  of  man's  moral 
nature.  That,  and  that  alone,  is  wealth  which  contributes  to 
develop  and  elevate  that  nature.  If  we  confine  the  term 
"wealth"  to  material  things,  its  true  definition  will  be  this  : 
Wealth  is  the  sum  of  those  things  which  possess  exchange 
value  and  which  contribute  directly  or  indirectly  to  increase 
man's  spiritual  and  moral  power.  This  it  is,  and  neither 
vague  usefulness,  nor  the  power  to  gratify  desires  indiscrim- 
inately, that  constitutes  true  wealth. 


MORAL  ASPECTS  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION     135 

The  whole  of  our  current  political  economy  is  vitiated  by 
this  initial  animal,  immoral  definition  of  its  subject.  Some 
strange  results  follow  from  it.  Wealth  being  in  the  last 
analysis  that  which  satisfies  desires,  the  man  who  seeks 
wealth  is  simply  seeking  to  satisfy  his  desires ;  but,  inasmuch 
as  that  is  the  characteristic  of  animal  nature,  it  follows  that 
man,  in  laboring  to  obtain  material]  possessions,  has  no  aim 
higher  than  the  animals  have.  In  so  far  as  a' man  'seeks  the 
means  of  satisfying  his  desires,  and  not  the  means  of  further- 
ing ends  which  he  clearly  sees  to  be  good  and  universally 
beneficial,  in  so  far  he  is  an  animal  and  a  slave,  and  not  a  man 
at  all.  .  .  . 

What,  think  you,  is  the  fundamental  cause  of  all  our  present 
economic  troubles, — our  strikes,  our  boycotts,  our  socialisms, 
our  anarchisms,  etc.  ?  Is  it  not  the  simple  fact  that  wealth, 
being  regarded  either  as  an  end  in  itself,  or  as  a  means  of 
satisfying  desire,  is  pursued  for  purely  selfish  ends,  without 
any  regard  to  public  well-being,  or  to  spiritual  and  moral 
progress,  which  is  inseparable  from  public  well-being  ?  .  .  . 

Had  men  holding  an  exalted  and  spiritual  view  of  man's 
nature  not  been  so  much  occupied  with  the  next  world  as  to 
lose  sight  of  the  interests  of  this,  but  had  early  taken  to  the 
study  of  political  economy,  as  they  are  now  being  compelled 
to  do  at  this  late  hour,  the  science  might  have  been  devel- 
oped on  the  true  basis  of  man's  entire  nature,  instead  of  upon 
the  animal  basis  of  selfishness.  .  .  . 

When  the  new  political  economy  comes  to  be  applied  hu- 
man life  will  concentrate  itself,  first  of  all,  about  the  school 
—  not  the  school  of  to-day,  but  the  school  of  the  future,  in 
which  not  merely  the  memory  and  the  tongue,  but  every 
faculty  of  heart,  head,  and  hand  will  be  trained,  exercised, 
and  developed.  Closely  connected  with  the  school,  and, 
indeed,  forming  its  public  hall,  will  be  the  church,  wherein 
the  God  worshipped  —  worshipped  with  rational,  heartfelt 
admiration,  and  not  with  slavish,  formal  lip-service  —  will  be 


136  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

the  trinity  of  justice,  love,  and  helpfulness.  Opening  out  from 
this  church  will  be  an  art  gallery  containing  the  noblest  and 
most  inspiring  works  of  human  genius,  and  a  theater  wherein 
the  deepest  and  most  moving  problems  of  human  life  will  be 
presented  by  art,  in  living  forms,  to  eye  and  ear.  Secondary 
and  subordinate  to  all  these  will  be  the  factory  and  the  store, 
yea,  even  the  court  of  justice. 

Cities  whose  centers  are  schools,  and  which  are  built  not 
with  a  view  to  wealth-making  so  much  as  with  a  view  to  health 
and  beauty,  will  stand  not  upon  low,  marshy,  malarious  ground, 
but  upon  heights  swept  by  bracing  winds,  and  commanding  a 
free  outlook  into  the  great  world.  .  .  . 

The  remedy  for  our  present  evils,  and  for  many  others 
that  must  come  upon  us  sooner  or  later,  lies  in  enlightening 
the  public  mind  ;  and  the  first  step  towards  this  will  be  the 
casting  aside  of  our  present  immoral  and  selfish  political 
economy,  our  present  views  regarding  the  nature  and  uses  of 
wealth,  and  the  replacing  of  them  by  an  economy  which  places 
in  the  foreground  the  moral  aspects  of  every  economic  ques- 
tion, and  considers  wealth  solely  as  a  means  for  the  advance- 
ment of  man  as  man,  in  all  human  virtues  and  perfections.  .  .  . 
In  other  words  capital  will  no  longer  be  the  mother  of  wealth, 
and  labor  of  poverty. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS   SENT  BY  THOMAS  DAVID- 
SON  TO   MORRIS   R.   COHEN   AT   THE   BREAD- 
WINNERS' COLLEGE,  NEW  YORK 

In  the  preface  to  this  volume,  and  in  Chapter  XIII,  refer- 
ence has  been  made  to  Davidson's  interest  in  the  bread- 
winners of  New  York.  His  chief  friend  and  assistant  among 
the  Russian  Jews  who  formed  the  center  of  that  organization 
was  Mr.  Morris  R.  Cohen,  through  whose  kindness  I  have 
received  the  following  amongst  other  letters,  written  to  him 
by  Mr.  Davidson. 

"Hurricane,  Essex  County,  New  York, 
May  7,  1899. 

.  .  .  The  man  of  reflection  is  not  apt  to  be  the  man  of 
action;  and  yet  it  is  just  he  who  ought  to  be  so.  It  is  the 
philosopher  who  ought  to  be  the  king.  And  yet  just  because 
philosophers  have  not  been  careful  to  cultivate  their  wills, 
they  have  always  been  bad  kings  ;  and  kingship  has  been 
usually  left  to  men  deficient  in  insight  and  power  of  thought. 
But  I  do  not  believe  that  this  need  be  always  so.  The  diffi- 
culty arises  from  the  fact  that  our  philosophies,  thus  far,  have 
been  too  abstract,  ideal,  and  Platonic  ;  concerning  themselves 
with  things  and  conditions  too  far  remote  from  human  experi- 
ence, instead  of  with  experience  itself.  This  again  has  been 
largely. due  to  the  fact  that  all  original  thinkers  have  found 
the  world  in  possession  of  certain  ancient  and  traditional 
ideals,  which  it  was  regarded  as  impious  to  disturb,  and  that, 
therefore,  they  have  had  to  betake  themselves  to  unreal 
regions,  philosophical  and  social  Utopias.  Even  to  this  day 
there  is  no  philosophy  of  actual  experience,  no  working  theory 

i37 


138  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

or  norm  of  life,  based  upon  the  results  of  carefully  digested 
science.  Indeed,  such  philosophy  is  the  great  desideratum  of 
our  time,  and  the  future  will  belong  to  the  man  who  can  fur- 
nish it.  Such  a  philosophy  will  make  men  of  strong  wills,  just 
because  it  will  make  them  realize  that  thought,  apart  from 
action,  is  mere  impotent  flapping  of  wings  in  vacancy. 

The  philosophers  of  the  future  will,  like  the  early  Greek 
philosophers,  be  men  of  action,  the  founders  of  societies, 
the  chief  agents  in  all  social  reform.  They  will  be  loyal, 
not  to  the  past,  but  to  the  future  —  to  the  social  order  that 
is  to  be. 

Fourteen  years  ago  I  found  Mr. very  much  where 

you  are  now.  He  was  much  of  an  ascetic,  had  read  a  great 
deal  in  a  desultory  way,  and  was  very  open-minded.  His 
difficulty  was  that  he  had  never  applied  himself  sternly  to 
accurate  hard  work.  I  said  to  him:  'You  will  never  be  of 
much  use  in  the  world  till  you  discipline  yourself,  and  pursue 
some  course  of  study  with  unflinching  tenacity  until  you 
have  mastered  it.'  And  I  quoted  to  him  Goethe's  words  :  '  Do 
one  thing  well,  and  that  will  be  to  thee  the  pattern  of  all 
things  that  are  well  done.'  He  took  my  advice,  went  to  col- 
lege, living  on  next  to  nothing,  and  did  four  years'  work  in 
three.     I  need  not  tell  you  the  rest.     He  has  for  several 

years  been  professor  of  Ethics  in University,  and 

has  now  come  away,  casting  off  his  academic  shackles,  and 
preparing  to  enter  the  great  field  of  toil  for  humanity.    Go 

and  do  thou  likewise  ;  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  you.    G 

is  not  the  only  young  man  whose  whole  life  I  have  changed 
by  a  word  spoken  in  season. 

What  you  say  of  college  study  is  but  too  true.  It  is 
mechanical  and  formal,  and  does  not  build  up  in  the  soul  an 
ideal  world,  realizable  in  life.  It  leaves  that  to  the  rabbi  and 
the  priest ;  and  they,  for  the  most  part,  try  to  build  up  an 
ideal  that  is  no  longer  realizable.  All  the  more  need  for  a 
new  sort  of  education,  a  need  which  you  may  help  to  satisfy. 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS         139 

You  see  where  I  am  trying  to  lead  you.  First  you  must 
discipline  yourself  by  accurate  and  continuous  study.  For 
this  purpose  there  is  nothing  better  than  Latin  or  Greek. 
Next  you  must  get  a  comprehensive  view  of  man's  nature 
and  of  the  whole  course  of  his  evolution,  so  that  you  may  be 
able  to  recognize  your  own  part  in  the  great  human  drama  as 
well  as  the  plan  of  that  drama  generally.  You  must  avoid  all 
one-sidedness,  all  over-devotion  either  to  past  or  to  present. 
You  must  correct  Karl  Marx  by  Isaiah,  and  vice  versa.  If 
you  do  this  loyally  and  persistently,  the  meaning  of  life  will 
gradually  break  upon  you,  and  you  will  find  yourself  filled 
with  a  hope,  and  animated  by  a  courageous  purpose  which 
will  make  earth  a  heaven  to  you.  If  we  cannot  make  heaven 
here,  I  see  no  guarantee  that  we  shall  be  able  to  make  it 
anywhere.  When  you  have  reached  this  point  you  will  be 
fit  to  teach,  that  is,  to  create  a  new^heaven  and  a  new  earth 
in  the  souls  of  your  pupils  :  for  that  is  the  true  meaning 
of  teaching.  yom  friendj 

Thomas  Davidson." 

"Hurricane,  Essex  County,  New  York, 

May  14,  1899. 
My  dear  Fellow  : 

It  was  very  good  to  get  your  long  and  serious  letter,  and 
I  have  read  and  re-read  it  with  care.  I  am  glad  to  have  you 
look  upon  me  as  a  father.  .  .  . 

I  recommended  Latin  as  a  study,  not  on  account  of  its 
literature,  but  because  it  is  the  best  study  I  know  for  disci- 
plining the  mind,  for  imparting  to  it  grasp,  accuracy,  and  per- 
sistence. For  you  it  would  be  an  admirable  study.  .  .  .  And, 
after  all,  if  we  use  the  term  in  a  broad  sense,  Latin  has  a 
splendid  literature.  Think  of  the  Roman  historians  and, 
above  all,  of  the  jurists  !  The  Code  of  Justinian  is  one  of 
the  greatest  works  in  the  world.  Then,  nearly  all  of  mediaeval 
literature  is  in  Latin.    To  the  man  who  does  not  know  Latin, 


I40  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

one  of  the  greatest  ages  of  the  world,  the  age  of  growing 
humanism,  is  a  closed  book.  .  .  . 

It  is  a  great  mistake  to  think  that  any  modern  language 
can  take  the  place  of  Latin.  And  you  can  still  learn  it.  You 
are  young,  and  brave ;  and  even  if  you  are  '  constitutionally 
nervous,'  that  will  pass  away  when  you  can  be  persuaded  to 
take  plenty  of  vigorous  outdoor  exercise,  which,  indeed,  for 
you  is  an  absolute  necessity,  if  you  mean  to  do  anything  in 
the  world.  Twenty-five  years  ago  I  adopted  a  Jewish  boy  of 
genius,  and  sent  him  to  Leipzig  to  study.  He  had  a  brilliant 
career,  but  died  at  the  end  of  two  years,  mainly,  I  believe, 
because  he  refused  to  take  the  necessary  exercise.  One  of 
my  books  is  dedicated  to  him.  I  hope  a  man  so  loyal  to  truth 
as  you,  so  willing  to  abandon  prejudices,  is  not  going  to  cling 
blindly  to  old,  monotonous  habits,  however  inveterate.  Here 
is  a  fine  chance  for  the  exercise  of  redeeming  will. 

It  is  well  that  you  should  feel  strongly  about  the  injustice 
which  prevails  in  the  world.  There  is  much  of  it ;  but,  unless 
your  feeling  takes  form  in  study  and  in  action,  it  will  only 
make  you  an  unhappy,  querulous  misanthrope.  All  feeling 
that  does  not  issue  in  action  is  morally  injurious.  It  is  always 
wrong  to  brood  in  sloth.  Every  feeling  of  injustice  ought  to 
be  supplemented  by  a  resolution  and  an  effort  to  right  the 
injustice.  Otherwise  the  soul  becomes  morbid.  Railing  at 
wrong  is  a  melancholy  business.    Let  us  fight  for  right. 

Let  me  kindly  counsel  you  not  to  study  Spanish  now  ;  it 
is  not  worth  your  while.  Spanish  literature  has  no  single 
work  of  the  highest  order.  Priestcraft  and  superstition  have 
paralyzed  Spain,  and  now  she  is  dying.  Don  Quixote  is  a 
much  overpraised  book,  and  can  be  read  in  English  as  well  as 
in  Spanish.  If  you  wish,  and  have  time  to  learn  a  modern 
language,  let  it  be  Italian,  which  has  a  glorious  literature  and 
is  the  most  beautiful  of  languages. 

I  am  afraid  that  the  study  of  the  history  of  philosophy 
may,  for  a  time,  confirm  you  in  a  feeling  which  you  now  seem 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS         141 

to  have,  and  which  is  not  unnatural,  namely,  that  philosophy 
is,  mostly,  a  mere  collection  of  discordant  opinions,  none  of 
which  have  any  claim  to  scientific  truth.  This  is  not  so. 
Philosophy  has  a  real  history,  but  it  is  not  easy  to  dig  it  out, 
and  very  few  ever  come  to  grasp  it.  Yet  to  the  patient 
student  who,  setting  aside  names  and  popularities,  persists 
in  following  the  gradual  evolution  of  human  thought,  there 
finally  comes  the  insight  that,  despite  all  apparent  contradic- 
tions and  confusions,  dogmatisms  and  scepticisms,  thought 
has  steadily  developed ;  and  that  we  are  progressing  toward 
a  comprehension  of  the  world,  that  is,  toward  a  production  in 
consciousness  of  unconscious  processes.  ... 

There  is  not  the  slightest  need  for  scepticism,  dogmatism, 
or  'will  to  believe.'  These  are  merely  the  refuges  of  sluggish 
and  inaccurate  thinking.  The  human  mind  is  quite  capable  of 
solving  all  its  own  problems,  and  reaching  truth  and  joy.  But 
before  such  solutions  can  have  a  value  for  humanity,  or  be  the 
means  of  doing  away  with  the  injustice  which  so  tries  your  soul, 
there  must  be  a  new  apostolate,  a  new  race  of  prophets.  .  .  - 

Then  you  will  see  the  element  of  truth  there  is  in  your 
plea  for  extremists.  There  are  two  elements  necessary  for  the 
truly  great  man,  the  permanent  benefactor  of  the  race  :  (1)  a 
vision  of  truth  applicable  to  his  own  time  ;  (2)  enthusiasm 
for  the  spread  of  that  truth.  Hitherto  these  elements  have 
rarely,  if  ever,  been  combined  in  one  man.  The  great  thinkers 
have  rarely  been  enthusiasts  ;  the  enthusiasts,  like  Isaiah, 
Mohammed,  etc.,  have  not  been  great  thinkers.  This  is  the 
reason  why  their  work  has  been  good  but  for  a  short  time, 
and  then  has  become  evil.  You  need  not  be  told  that  Judaism 
and  Islam  are,  in  our  day,  the  greatest  obstacles  to  civiliza- 
tion and  universal  justice.  They  bar  the  way  to  enlighten- 
ment by  encouraging  sluggishness  of  intellect,  and  the  belief 
either  that  we  cannot  solve  our  problems,  or  that  their  solu- 
tion has  been  miraculously  revealed.  And  yet  these  religions 
were  once  of  great  benefit  to  the  world.    The  enthusiast  — 


142  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

i 

extremist,  if  you  like  —  of  the  future  must  combine  his  enthu- 
siasm with  clear  intellectual  insight  and  wide  knowledge,  and 
then  his  work  will  endure  without  becoming  an  obstacle  to 
progress.    Good-bye. 

Ever  yours  affectionately, 

Thomas  Davidson." 

"Hurricane,  Essex  County,  New  York, 

mr     j         «/r  May  29,  l899- 

My  dear  M : 

.  .  .  That  you  are  attached  to  socialism  neither  surprises  nor 
disappoints  me.  I  once  came  near  being  a  socialist  myself ; 
and,  indeed,  in  that  frame  of  mind  founded  what  afterwards 
became  the  Fabian  Society.  But  I  soon  found  out  the  limita- 
tions of  socialism,  and  so  I  am  sure  will  you,  '  if  you  are  true 
to  yourself.'  I  have  not  found  any  deep  social  insight,  or  any 
high  moral  ideals,  among  the  many  socialists  I  know.  I  be- 
lieve that  your  views  and  mine  are  not  widely  different,  all 
the  same.  We  both  believe  that  the  present  economic  and 
moral  condition  of  society  is  bad  and  needs  reforming.  We 
both  believe  that  this  can  be  done  only  through  an  increase 
of  social  sentiment,  of  brotherly  relations.  We  both  believe 
that  economic  improvement  bought  with  moral  deterioration  or 
with  loss  of  freedom  is  undesirable.  We  both  see,  I  take  it, 
that  when  society  is  social  enough  to  adopt  socialism  it  will 
be  ready  to  adopt  something  better,  if  such  presents  itself. 
Further,  I  suppose,  we  both  see  that  mere  economic  social- 
ism—  that  is,  the  owning  of  all  the  means  of  production  by 
the  state  —  would  not  necessarily  insure  economic  well-being, 
that  Crokerian  socialism,  for  example,  would  be  sure  to  do  the 
opposite.  Socialism  could  not  abolish  'bossism,'  but  would 
rather  increase  its  opportunities  and  power.  Lastly,  we  both 
hold,  I  trust,  that  any  social  or  economic  arrangements  which 
do  not  carry  with  them  the  assent  of  the  great  mass  of  the 
people,  but  are  octroyes  from  above,  are  enslaving.  I  am  free  in 
a  social  order  only  when  it  is  the  expression  of  my  rationality, 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS         1 43 

and  gives  me  scope  for  the  fullest  exercise  of  all  my  powers. 
What  you  believe  in  relation  to  socialism  more  than  this,  will 
you  kindly  tell  me  ? 

Historically,  nations  have  been  great,  I  believe,  in  propor- 
tion as  they  have  developed  individualism  on  a  basis  of  private 
property.  ...  If  socialism  once  realized  should  prove  abor- 
tive, and  throw  power  and  wealth  into  the  hands  of  a  class, 
that  class  would  be  able  to  maintain  itself  against  all  opposi- 
tion, just  as  the  feudal  chiefs  did  for  so  long.  Feudalism  was 
socialism  ;  that  is  often  forgotten. 

But  one  fact  must  strike  you  forcibly,  that  economic  well- 
being  does  not  insure  moral  nobility.  Our  wealthy  classes  are 
a  standing  proof  of  this.  In  fact,  I  think  that  wealth  is  more 
fatal  to  morality  than  poverty  is. 

My  own  belief  is  that  the  way  out  of  our  difficulties  is  not 
through  any  increase  of  state  functions,  but  through  a  slow 
growth  of  the  moral  sense,  and  the  social  spirit.  Having 
these,  we  shall  easily  get  socialism,  or  anything  else  that  is 
desirable  ;  without  them,  never.  .  .  . 

I  should  like  you  to  ask  yourself  how  you  are  certain  that 
there  existed  a  world  long  before  you  were  born,  and  what 
sort  of  a  world  there  would  be  if  you  subtracted  from  the 
world  that  you  know  and  can  talk  about,  all  that  is  your  feel- 
ing. It  will  be  well  to  answer  the  second  question  first.  Here 
again  the  'tyranny  of  ideas'  is  playing  a  part  and  concealing 
from  you  the  great  truth  of  personal  immortality.  You  must 
come  to  see  that  there  is  no  world  at  all  without  you.  Your 
grandfather,  whom  you  have  made  interesting  to  me,  is  not  a 
mere  memory,  but  an  external,  living  soul,  a  god  in  the  mak- 
ing, as  all  gods  are.  And  you  must  not  confound  feeling  with 
consciousness,  which  is  distinction  among  feelings.  You  have 
existed  from  all  eternity,  else  you  would  n't  exist  now,  but 
you  have  not  been  conscious  from  all  eternity.  You  are  not 
conscious  in  deep  sleep ;  yet  you  are  and  feel,  else  you 
could  n't  be  waked.    The  child  in  the  womb  is  not  conscious, 


144  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

yet  it  is  very  busy  building  up  a  body.  And  even  now  you 
digest,  breathe,  make  your  blood  circulate,  etc.,  without  con- 
sciousness. Nay,  you  often  walk  unconsciously.  '  Before 
Abraham  was,  I  am,'  said  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  It  is  a  great 
satisfaction  to  be  thoroughly  convinced  of  one's  immortality ; 
and  one  may  easily  be  so  who  thinks  logically.  I  don't  know 
what  Weltschmerz  is,  and  I  have  no  fear  of  death,  or  of  anything 
that  may  come  after.  I  am  !  As  Manto,  in  Faust,  says  :  Ich 
harre  mich  umkreist  die  Zeit.  ...  I  am  sure  that  if  the  con- 
viction of  immortality  would  make  your  life  'full  of  joy,'  I 
can  procure  you  that  joy.  It  must  be  dreary  to  go  through 
life  feeling  that  it  ends  in  a  hole  in  the  ground ;  that  how- 
ever noble  a  character  one  may  have  built  up,  with  pain  and 
sore  toil,  it  all  goes  out  like  a  blown  candle.  I  am  glad  to  say 
I  know  that  view  is  not  true  ;  and  I  know  that  no  great  soul 
has  ever  held  it.  If  I  have  drawn  out  a  spark  of  your  affection 
I  will  guard  it  as  the  most  sacred  of  things.  I  can  say  in 
return  that  you  are  very  dear  to  me,  and  that  I  am 

Your  loving  friend, 

Thomas  Davidson." 


My  dear 


"Hurricane,  Essex  County,  New  York, 
June  12,  1899. 


Your  good  letter  is  here,  and  I  have  read  it  with  great 
pleasure.  I  like  your  defense  of  your  views,  though  I  cannot 
share  them.  Honesty  and  sincerity  are  the  first  of  virtues,  and 
it  is  better  to  be  a  little  over-ready  than  to  be  timid  and 
backward.  After  all,  each  one  has  to  work  out  his  own  world 
in  his  own  way.  It  would  be  a  great  pity  if  you  should  drop 
a  placard  so  long  as  you  feel  justified  in  wearing  it.  I  shall  be 
surprised,  if  the  experiences  of  the  years  to  come  do  not  make 
you  feel  that  the  tyranny  of  ideas  is,  for  the  most  part,  the 
result  of  placard-wearing,  or  sectarianism. 

I  have  for  years  been  at  work  on  a  History  of  Mediceval 
Thought,  and  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  all  the  good 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS         145 

m  Christianity  came  from  its  ethical  principles,  all  the  evil 
from  the  placard-wearing  of  its  professors.  And  I  know  many 
placard-wearing  socialists  who  openly  declare  they  would  per- 
secute, if  they  had  the  power;  persecute  wealth,  individual- 
ism, and  Christianity. 

It  does  not  seem  to  me  that  you  have  quite  answered  some 
of  my  questions  in  regard  to  the  external  world.  The  asser- 
tions you  make  are  correct,  but  they  do  not  touch  the  real 
points,  which  are :  How  do  we  come  to  assume  an  external 
world  ?  What  does  that  world  consist  of  when  we  subtract 
from  it  all  that  is  due  to  our  sensibility  ?  To  what  is  that 
world  external  ? 

You  are  altogether  mistaken  in  thinking  that  I  am  an 
idealist.  I  have  fought  idealism  for  forty  years  with  all 
my  might. 

You  are  still  bothered  by  the  notion  of  matter,  and  you  are 
in  good  company.  I  suggest  that  you  try  to  formulate  to 
yourself  not  what  matter  is,  but  what  you  know  it  to  be. 
Subtract  from  it  what  is  your  subjective  feeling,  then  tell  me 
(1)  what  is  left,  (2)  how  you  know  it  is  left,  (3)  whether  the 
process  by  which  you  know  it  is  a  valid  one.  You  confess 
you  do  not  know  what  matter  is  :  how  do  you  know  that  it  is  ? 

I  feel  that  it  is  a  little  unfair  to  fire  these  questions  at  you, 
before  you  have  read  Hume  and  Kant,  and  fully  grasped  their 
problem,  but  I  am  so  anxious  that  you  should  have  the  joy  of 
believing  in  the  immortality  of  the  individual  that  I  allow 
myself  to  do  so.  Perhaps  I  might  ask  another  question  :  How 
do  you  distinguish  between  the  world  and  your  experience  of 
the  world  ? 

I  have  no  difficulty  in  understanding  your  antipathy  to  cer- 
tain •  types '  and  institutions ;  but  I  am  sure  that  antipathy 
and  hatred  are  not  comfortable  or  profitable  inmates  of  the 
human  soul.  They  are  very  blinding,  and  they  do  not  help 
us  in  dealing  with  their  objects.  Croker  and  his  crowd  are 
undoubtedly  bad  men ;  but  for  that  reason  they  need  our 


146  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

help.  Such  help  may  indeed  take  the  form  of  punishment, 
but  that  should  be  inflicted  in  love,  and  not  in  hate.  I  have 
never  found  anything  gained  by  hatred.  After  all,  even 
Croker  is  our  brother  man,  and  many  others  would  do  just 
what  he  does  if  they  had  the  ability.  The  great  difficulty  is 
that  what  Croker  wants  everybody  wants.  One  reason  why 
the  Christians  succeeded  was  that  they  showed  contempt  for 
what  other  people  wanted.  They  said  to  the  rich:  'Keep  your 
riches  and  take  ours ;  we  have  treasure  in  heaven.'  They 
discredited  wealth,  and  in  the  end  made  the  rich  ashamed  of 
themselves.  Now  although  a  certain  amount  of  property  is 
necessary  for  a  healthy,  full  life,  yet  overweening  wealth 
should  be  despised ;  and  the  man  who  hoards  should  be 
unpopular.  We  are  all  to  blame  for  the  estimation  in  which 
wealth  is  held.    We  place  the  economic  too  high. 

Your  friend, 

Thomas  Davidson." 

"  Chatwold,  Bar  Harbor,  Maine, 

.  October  24,  1899. 

Dear  Morris : 

Your  letter  made  me  very  happy.  I  am  so  pleased  to  think 
that  your  class  begins  to-day,  and  I  trust  that  it  will  meet 
your  highest  expectations.  You  have  now  an  excellent  chance 
to  show  what  you  can  do,  and  I  hope  you  will  do  it. 

It  will  be  great  if  you  can  show  what  progress  really  is : 
advcuzce  in  being,  that  is,  in  insight,  sympathy,  and  helpful 
will. 

You  know,  of  course,  that  the  true  teacher  is  not  an  apostle, 
or  an  advocate  ;  that  he  keeps  his  own  views  in  the  background, 
and  strives  merely  to  help  his  pupils  to  insight  of  their  own. 
In  the  end,  as  Carlyle  said,  '  It  does  not  so  much  matter  what 
a  man  believes,  as  how  he  believes  it.' 

Be  willing  that  your  pupils  should  contradict  you,  and  come 
to  conclusions  entirely  different  from  yours,  even  on  points 
that  seem  to  you  essential. 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS         147 

Don't  be  too  anxious  to  make  them  come  to  conclusions. 
Allow  facts  to  simmer  in  their  minds,  till  time  and  reflection 
can  do  their  work.    I  am, 

Yours  affectionately, 

Thomas  Davidson." 

[No  date.] 
" .  .  .  '  What  is  the  rational  basis  of  morality  ? '  Like  you,  I 
have  never  found  an  answer  to  that  question  in  any  book. 
I  have,  however,  worked  out  one  for  myself,  which  I  think 
satisfies  all  reasonable  demands,  and  rests  upon  a  basis  of  pure 
fact :  I,  as  I  know  myself,  am  a  permanent  feeling,  which, 
through  experience,  gradually  differentiates  itself  into  a  world. 
But  the  feeling  which  I  am  has  another  side,  namely,  desire.  I 
am  a  desire,  which  desires  to  be  —  to  be  ever  more  and  more, 
—  that  is  the  active,  creative,  free  aspect  of  me.  Now,  my  well- 
being,  which  means  my  ever-greater-being,  depends  upon  the 
extent  and  harmony  of  my  world.  But  that  extent  and  that 
harmony  depend  upon  the  satisfaction  of  the  desires  of  all 
those  other  beings,  or  '  substantial  feelings,'  which  I  recog- 
nize as  entering  into  and  affecting  my  world.  I  cannot  attain 
the  fullest  being  unless  they  do  the  same.  Therefore  I  must 
love  my  neighbor  as  myself,  since  his  well-being  is  my  well- 
being.  Thus  the  completest  egoism  and  the  completest  altru- 
ism are  identical,  and  rigorism  is  reconciled  with  Hedonism. 
But  to  love  one's  neighbor  as  oneself,  when  properly  under- 
stood, is  the  substance  of  all  morality.  Hence  morality  rests 
upon  a  perfectly  rational  basis,  if  you  like.  Here  again  I 
might  quote  from  Wordsworth  : 

If  thou  be  one  whose  heart  the  holy  forms 

Of  young  imagination  have  kept  pure, 

Stranger !  henceforth  be  warned  ;  and  know  that  pride, 

Howe'er  disguised  in  its  own  majesty, 

Is  littleness  ;  that  he  who  feels  contempt 

For  any  living  thing,  hath  faculties 

Which  he  has  never  used ;  that  thought  with  him 

Is  in  its  infancy. 


I48  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

Translated  into  prose,  this  means  that  we  maim  ourselves  by 
shutting  out  anything  from  our  sympathy  and  love.  But  is 
not  this  a  completely  rational  ethics?  I  have  put  it  into 
practice  for  many  years,  and  can  testify  that  it  is,  for  me, 
completely  effectual.  I  have  found  that  Unheiliiben  ist  eigenes 
Elend,  as  Jordan  says.  In  wronging  another  I  am  damning 
myself.  I  could  talk  a  long  time  about  this  ;  but  perhaps  I 
have  said  enough  to  start  you  on  the  right  track,  or  rather, 
on  what  seems  to  me  the  right  track.  I  am  greatly  interested 
in  your  experience  with  the  lowest  class  of  men  and  women ; 
it  will  be  very  valuable  to  you  in  the  future.  But  now,  ask 
yourself,  have  they  a  large  world?  Can  they  have  a  large 
world,  without  altering  their  whole  lives  ?  The  answer  is  not 
doubtful.  The  « clam  at  high  tide,'  and  the  well-fed  cow  are, 
doubtless,  happy ;  but  what  a  happiness  !  Would  you  exchange 
places  with  them?  You  will  say  'No,'  but  perhaps  add, 
1  Nor  would  they  exchange  with  me.'  I  say  they  would,  if 
you  could  make  them  realize  your  world.  So  of  the  low, 
selfish  men  of  whom  you  speak.  They  are  where  they  are 
because  they  cannot  realize  any  larger  world.  They  may  live 
and  die  in  this  condition,  and  others  of  their  sort  may  envy 
them  ;  but  death  is  fortunately  not  the  end.  The  same  prin- 
ciples upon  which  I  rest  my  ethics  furnish  the  grounds  for  a 
proof  of  immortality.  Ethical  life  and  immortality,  I  see 
plainly,  are  forever  inseparable.  It  needs  no  faith,  no  'will 
to  believe,'  to  tell  me  that.  It  is  a  scientific  fact.  But  we 
will  speak  of  this  great  question  later.  To  be  taught  by  my 
good  friend,  Baralt,  is  certainly  a  great  temptation  to  learning 
Spanish  ;  but  yet  I  think  Latin  would  be  more  to  your  pur- 
pose. When  you  know  that,  Spanish  and  Italian  can  be  learned, 
each,  in  a  month.  There  is  nothing  of  value  in  Don  Quixote 
that  you  cannot  get  in  a  translation.  The  refinements  of 
Spanish  are  for  Spaniards  alone. 

You  do  well  to  attack  Kant's  problem ;  it  lies  at  the  foun- 
dation of  all  modern  thought.    To  be  sure,  he  did  not  solve 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS         1 49 

it,  and  that  because  he  was  afraid  of  the  logical  results  of  his 
own  premises  ;  but  that  does  not  prevent  us  from  solving  it 
by  the  application  of  his  principles.  By  insisting  upon  the 
existence  of  the  Ding  an  sick —  which,  by  its  very  definition, 
lies  outside  of  experience  —  he  paved  the  way  for  a  new  agnos- 
ticism or  skepticism,  and  a  new  dogmatism  or  faith.  Hence 
the  systems  of  Spencer,  Balfour,  James,  etc.  He  also  paved 
the  way  for  such  hollow  schemes  as  those  of  Schelling  and 
Hegel,  which  for  half  a  century  deluded  the  world,  and  to 
some  extent  delude  it  still.  They  functioned  with  the  forms 
of  thought,  disregarding  the  content,  without  which  the  forms 
have  no  meaning  (as  Kant  saw) ;  and  of  course  they  arrived  at 
a  sort  of  Vedantic  or  neo-Platonic  mysticism,  which  played 
into  the  hands  of  the  clergy  and  obscurantists,  as  indeed 
Hegel  meant  it  should.  He  called  his  system  a  Restaurations- 
philosopJiia  !  It  is  thoroughly  insincere,  and  time-serving.  It 
has  distinct  merits,  however,  but  they  are  not  philosophical 
merits.  Caird,  as  I  found  out  in  a  conversation  with  him,  is 
a  reactionary  ;  and  Watson  has  recently  shown  himself  to  be 
the  same.  Their  positions  made  this  almost  necessary. 
Things  are  not  true  because  big  men  believe  them. 

I  am  glad  you  do  not  believe  in  the  'vanity  of  philoso- 
phizing.' Your  last  letter  seemed  to  say  you  did,  but  we  need 
not  mind  that.  You  never  will  refute  Zeno's  arguments 
against  the  reality  of  motion  as  usually  conceived.  They  are 
perfectly  valid,  as  Rosmini  —  the  acutest  thinker  of  the  cen- 
tury—  was  forced  to  admit.  (See  my  translation  of  his  psy- 
chology, §§  1208  sqq.)  Had  Zeno  —  the  ancient  Kant,  only 
more  acute  —  been  followed,  and  his  proofs  taken  seriously, 
we  should  have  been  spared  twenty-three  hundred  years  of 
mythical  thinking.  We  should  have  seen  that  all  our  com- 
mon-sense ideas  of  the  phenomenal  world  are  utterly  self- 
contradictory,  and  should  have  been  forced  to  the  conclusion 
that  spirit,  or  'substantial  feeling,'  is  the  one  reality,  through 
and  for  which  all  things  are.     You  might  try  your  hand  at 


150  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

the  puzzle  of  Achilles  and  the  tortoise.  Had  Aristotle  fully- 
grasped  that,  he  would  have  added  to  his  logic  of  Being  a 
logic  of  Becoming,  as  Hegel  blunderingly  tried  to  do,  starting 
his  treatise  with  the  notion  of  Being  ! !  What  we  really  need 
is  a  logic  recognizing  that  Being  is  Becoming,  when  properly 
understood.  There  can  be  no  change  in  time,  except  for  that 
which  is  above  time.  Rosmini  has  admirably  demonstrated 
this,  showing  that  mind  (my  mind)  is  eternal  and  ubiquitous. 
This  may  throw  a  ray  of  light  upon  your  problem  of  the  '  I,' 
which  is  not  so  very  difficult,  after  all.  We  make  a  complete 
mistake  when  we  substitute  the  categories  whereby  reality 
is  articulated,  for  reality  itself.  All  reality  is  feeling;  cate- 
gories merely  distinguish  it.  This  is  the  reason  why  all 
abstract  science  fails  to  reach  the  truth  of  things.  Knowl- 
edge is  but  one  element  of  truth  ;  feeling  and  desire  are  the 
others.  A  feeling,  and  the  notion  of  a  feeling,  are  widely  dif- 
ferent things.  Action  is  the  true  expression  of  truth,  I 
mean  moral  action.  '  I  had  rather  feel  compunction  than 
know  the  definition  of  it,'  says  Thomas  a  Kempis.  I  need 
not  say  that  Faust's  entire  effort  is  to  feel,  instead  of  to 
know.  You  remember  he  substitutes  for  "  Im  Anfang  war 
das  Wort"  " Im  Anfang  war  die  That";  and  elsewhere  he 
says,  "  Gefiihl  ist  A/les,"  "Name  ist  Schall  und  Ranch" 
which  is  not  true  either.  .  .  . 

Your  joyful  hope  of  one  day  coming  to  see  the  truth,  and 
to  discover  what  things  in  life  are  really  great,  will  —  I  am 
sure  —  not  be  disappointed,  if  you  are  only  true  to  yourself. 
And  I  believe  you  will  be.  You  will  battle  against  the 
tyranny  of  ideas,  and  insist  that  ideas  must  conform  to 
reality,  not  reality  to  ideas.  Before  Plato  men  believed  that 
reality  must  correspond  to  the  divine  will  (superstition,  reli- 
gion). After  him  they  held  that  it  must  correspond  to  ideas 
(metaphysics).  We  are  learning  to-day  that  it  has  not  to  cor- 
respond to  anything  but  itself,  that  gods  and  ideas  are  mere 
abstractions  from  it.    I  should  be  much  pleased  to  hear  or 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS         151 

see  your  oration,  and  also  your  talk  to  your  club.    Are  they 
written  down  ? 

I  hope  you  will  long  continue  to  hold  your  own  against  all 
teachers  and  all  authorities,  no  matter  how  imposing.  In  the 
pressure  of  the  world  it  is  not  easy  to  do  this  ;  but  it  can  be 
done,  and  great  is  the  reward  thereof.  By  being  loyal  to 
truth  you  can  be  of  infinite  service  to  mankind,  and  at  the 
same  time  prepare  yourself  for  loftier  spheres  of  activity. 

I  was  much  interested  to  hear  that  you  had  spoken  to  the 
class  on  dialectic  philosophy.  I  do  not  know  what  attitude 
you  assumed  to  it.  There  is  dialectic  and  dialectic.  Have 
you  read  Trendlenburg's  criticism  of  Hegel's  dialectic  in 
his  Logische  Untersuchungen  ?  It  is  well  worth  reading. 
My  friend,  Chiappeli  of  Naples,  has  shown  the  connection 
between  the  dialectic  of  Hegel  and  that  of  Marx. 

I  expect  to  extend  the  scope  of  my  work  at  the  Alliance 
next  year,  and  to  get  Bakewell,  Griggs,  and  others  to  help 
me.  Perhaps  you  will  be  able  to  take  a  hand.  When  do  you 
graduate  ? 

Political  economy  is  not  a  science ;  that  is  certain.  It  is 
far  too  abstract,  and  omits  too  many  of  the  essential  elements 
of  human  nature.  It  must  widen  itself  out  into  a  study  of 
man  as  a  social  being.  And  to  that  you  should  devote  your- 
self. For  one  thing  is  certain :  all  future  reforms  must  rest 
upon  a  new  conception  of  the  social  man.  The  old  notions, 
due  to  religion  and  metaphysics,  have  had  their  day  and  are 
no  longer  available.  We  must  come  to  see  that  man  is  eternal 
and  divine  in  his  own  right,  and  that  he  is  working  toward  the 
only  possible  and  conceivable  heaven,  —  a  republic  of  pure, 
wise,  loving,  energetic  spirits,  rising  to  ever  completer  harmony 
and  closer  intimacy  with  each  other.  To  aid  in  realizing  this 
heaven  I  believe  you  are  called.     Good-night ! 

I  am,  with  faith,  hope,  and  love,  ever  yours, 

Thomas  Davidson." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ROUSSEAU,  AND   EDUCATION  ACCORDING  TO 

NATURE 

In  what  Davidson  wrote  on  Rousseau,  and  Education  accord- 
ing to  Nature  there  are  many  side  lights  as  to  his  philosophi- 
cal position,  and  his  views  on  sociology.  He  gave  lectures 
on  the  subject  at  Glenmore,  as  well  as  in  New  York ;  and 
they  were  amongst  the  most  useful  parts  of  his  oral  teaching. 
What  he  committed  to  writing  in  1 898  is  here  summarized  in 
four  sections ;  the  first  on  "  Ideas  and  Aspirations  as  to 
Authority,  Nature,  and  Culture,  Current  in  Rousseau's  Time" ; 
the  second  on  "Rousseau's  Life"  ;  the  third  on  his  "Social 
and  Educational  Theories" ;  and  the  fourth  on  his  "  Influence." 

I.  Ideas   and  Aspirations   as   to   Authority,    Nature, 
and  Culture,  Current  in  Rousseau's  Time  1 

If  true  human  greatness  consists  in  deep  insight,  strong 
and  well-distributed  affection,  and  free,  beneficent  will,  Rous- 
seau was  not  in  any  sense  a  great  man.  His  insight,  like 
his  knowledge,  was  limited  and  superficial;  his  affections 
were  capricious  and  undisciplined  ;  and  his  will  was  ungener- 
ous and  selfish.  His  importance  in  literature  and  history  is 
due  to  the  fact  that  he  summed  up  in  his  character,  expressed 
in  his  writings,  and  exemplified  in  his  experience  a  group  of 
tendencies  and  aspirations,  which  had  for  some  time  been 
half  blindly  stirring  in  the  bosom  of  society,  and  which  in  him 
attained  to  complete  consciousness  and  manifestation  for  the 
first  time.    These  tendencies  and  aspirations,  which  may  be 

1  Summarized  from  Rousseau,  and  Education  according  to  Nature.  Copy' 
right,  1898,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  Publishers. 

152 


EDUCATION  ACCORDING  TO  NATURE  153 

comprehended  under  the  one  term  individualism  —  or,  more 
strictly,  subjective  individualism  —  have  a  history ;  and  this 
we  must  now  sketch,  if  we  are  to  understand  the  significance 
of  Rousseau. 

The  ruling  principle  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  authority. 
Man,  created  for  God's  glory,  was  only  a  means  to  that  end, 
and  had  no  freedom  of  thought,  affection,  or  will.  The  task 
of  the  centuries  since  that  time  has  been  to  shake  off  this 
yoke,  and  to  restore  men  to  freedom  ;  that  is,  to  convince 
them  that  they  are  ends  in  and  through  themselves. 

The  Germanic  Reformation  claimed  freedom  for  the  indi- 
vidual intelligence ;  the  Italian  Renaissance,  freedom  for  the 
individual  feelings  and  emotions.  Neither,  however,  thought 
of  aspiring  to  freedom  of  the  moral  will,  which  is  the  only 
true  freedom.  This  is  a  fact  of  the  utmost  importance  in 
enabling  us  to  comprehend  the  thought  and  practice  of  the 
sixteenth,  seventeenth,  and  eighteenth  centuries.  We  look 
vainly  in  these  for  the  conception  of  moral  freedom  ;  and  what 
its  absence  meant  we  can  perhaps  most  clearly  see  when  we 
realize  that  the  complete  and  logical  outcome  of  the  Reforma- 
tion was  found  in  Voltaire ;  that  of  the  Renaissance,  in  Rous- 
seau. It  took  the  clear  mathematical  mind  of  the  French  to 
carry  principles  to  their  logical  conclusions  in  thought  and 
practice.  What  Rousseau  demanded  was  absolutely  free  play 
for  the  feelings  and  emotions.  But  it  took  a  long  time  for 
any  one  to  become  clearly  aware  that  this  was  the  true  mean- 
ing of  the  Renaissance. 

The  reformers  appealed  to  reason,  the  humanists  to 
nature.  The  notion  of  nature  was  an  inheritance  from  the 
Greeks,  but,  as  time  went  on,  nature,  and  gradually  mind  or 
reason  also,  fell  into  disrepute ;  and  the  supreme  object  of 
interest  became  Plato's  so-called  ideal  world.  This  tendency, 
along  with  many  other  things  in  Greek  philosophy,  passed 
over  into  Christianity,  and  reached  its  culmination  in  the 
Middle   Age,  when   nature   and   reason  were   both    equally 


154  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

regarded  with  suspicion  as  the  origin  of  evil  ;  and  the  ancient 
place  of  Plato's  ideal  world  was  taken  by  an  authoritative 
revelation. 

In  the  seventeenth  century  churchmen,  for  the  most  part, 
clung  to  revelation  and  authority  ;  other  thinkers  tried  to 
make  peace  between  reason  and  nature.  The  English  mind, 
generally  preferring  nature,  tried  to  explain  reason  through  it  ; 
the  French,  setting  out  with  reason  and  finding  no  way  of  ar- 
riving at  nature,  left  the  dualism  unsolved.  Bacon,  Hobbes, 
and  Locke  form  a  strong  contrast  to  Pascal,  Descartes,  and 
Malebranche.  Rousseau  generally  followed  the  former,  espe- 
cially Hobbes,  who  conceived  the  "state  of  nature"  to  be 
one  of  universal  war.  He  taught  that  in  spite  of  differences, 
mental  and  bodily,  when  all  is  taken  into  account  men  are  not 
only  equal,  but  have  equal  rights.  "The  right  of  nature" 
is  the  liberty  of  each  man  to  use  his  own  power  as  well  as 
himself  for  the  preservation  of  his  own  nature  —  that  is,  his 
life  —  "  and  to  do  anything  which  he  shall  conceive  to  be  the 
aptest  means  thereto."  A  common  power  must  be  set  up  to 
maintain  covenants  between  men,  and  to  direct  their  actions 
for  the  common  benefit. 

"The  attaining  of  this  sovereign  power  is  by  two  ways. 
One  is  by  natural  force.  .  .  .  The  other  is  when  men  agree 
amongst  themselves  to  submit  to  some  man,  or  assembly  of 
men,  voluntarily,  on  confidence  to  be  protected  by  him  against 
all  others."  Hobbes  went  on  to  say  that  the  power  once 
established  can  never  be  replaced  or  annulled,  and  is  binding 
on  all ;  that  the  sovereign,  once  elected,  can  do  no  injustice ; 
and  hence  cannot  be  put  to  death,  or  be  punished  by  his  sub- 
jects. His  views  with  regard  to  law  are  characteristic,  and 
are  as  follows  :  "  The  law  of  nature  and  the  civil  law  contain 
each  other.  For  the  laws  of  nature,  which  consist  in  equity, 
justice,  gratitude,  and  other  moral  virtues  on  these  depending 
in  the  condition  of  mere  nature  ...  are  not  properly  laws, 
but  qualities  that  dispose  men  to  peace  and  obedience.    When 


EDUCATION  ACCORDING  TO   NATURE  155 

a  commonwealth  is  once  settled  they  are  actually  laws,  but 
not  before.  .  .  .  The  law  of  nature  therefore  is  a  part  of  the 
civil  law."  And  again,  "  Reciprocally,  also,  the  civil  law  is 
a  part  of  the  dictates  of  nature.  For  justice,  that  is  to  say} 
performance  of  covenant  and  giving  to  every  one  his  own,  is 
a  dictate  of  the  law  of  nature." 

In  1689  Locke  published  two  Treatises  on  Government.  In 
considering  how  political  power  could  rise  he  made  the  two 
fundamental  assumptions  of  Hooker  and  Hobbes  :  (1)  that 
mankind  started  on  its  career  in  a  state  of  nature,  in  which 
all  individuals  enjoyed  complete  liberty  and  equality  ;  (2)  that 
the  transition  from  this  to  the  civic  state  was  through  a  social 
contract ;  but  he  sided  with  Hooker,  against  Hobbes,  in  main- 
taining that  the  state  of  nature  was  one  of  peace,  governed 
by  a  natural  law.  He  says  :  "The  state  of  nature  has  a  law 
of  nature  to  govern  it  which  obliges  every  one,  and  reason 
is  that  law.  It  teaches  all  mankind  who  will  but  consult  it, 
that  being  all  equal  and  independent  no  one  ought  to  harm 
another  in  his  life,  health,  liberty,  or  possessions. . . .  All  being 
the  servants  of  one  sovereign  Master,  they  are  made  to  last 
during  his  pleasure." 

Locke  rejected  Hobbes's  theory  of  despotic  sovereignty, 
and  believed  that  men,  by  submitting  to  common  laws,  gain 
freedom.  He  maintained  that  when  a  form  of  government 
failed  to  perform  its  functions  it  might  be  overthrown  and 
another  put  into  its  place. 

Hobbes  and  Locke  were  the  chief  inspirers  of  Rousseau's 
social  and  political  theories.  Among  others  that  influenced  him 
were  Montesquieu  and  Morellet.  By  his  scientific  researches 
the  former  caused  a  reactionary  effect  upon  Rousseau,  many 
of  whose  theories  may  be  simply  considered  as  a  protest. 
Morellet,  though  combating  Rousseau's  idea  that  human  cor- 
ruption is  due  to  the  arts  and  sciences,  was  at  one  with  him 
in  maintaining  that  men  in  a  state  of  nature  are  good,  and 
that  most  governments  have  corrupted  them.    He  accordingly 


1 56  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

wished  to  return  to  the  simplicity  and  equality  of  nature  by 
the  establishment  of  a  community  of  goods,  that  is,  socialism. 
When  Rousseau  began  to  write,  the  chief  questions  were 
these  :  (i)  Was  the  state  of  nature  one  of  freedom  and  peace, 
or  of  war  and  slavery  ?  (2)  Are  the  laws  of  nature  benefi- 
cent, or  the  opposite  ?  (3)  Do  men  gain  freedom  through  the 
social  contract,  or  lose  it  ?  (4)  Are  they  improved,  or  degraded, 
by  social  union  and  culture  ?  (5)  Since  all  men  are  free  and 
equal  in  the  state  of  nature,  how  do  the  social  subordination 
of  one  man  to  another  and  social  inequality  come  about,  and 
what  is  their  justification  ?  (6)  Are  men  bound  to  submit  to 
social  regulations  against  their  wills  ?  While  these  questions 
were  fermenting  in  men's  minds  Rousseau  came  upon  the 
scene. 

II.  Rousseau's  Life 

Human  beings  may,  roughly  speaking,  be  divided  into  two 
classes,  —  those  who  live  for  passive  enjoyment,  and  those  who 
live  for  active  mastery.  The  former  seek  to  enjoy  each  moment; 
the  latter  live  chiefly  in  the  future  and  often  attain  a  per- 
manent place  in  the  world's  history.  Rousseau  belonged  to  the 
first  class,  Voltaire  to  the  second.  How,  then,  did  Rousseau 
become  an  important  factor  in  a  great  historic  movement  ? 

(1)  Because,  like  other  men  of  his  type,  he  was  thrown  into 
circumstances  which  wounded  his  sensibility,  and  was  thus 
driven  to  imagine  others  in  which  it  would  find  free  play ; 

(2)  because  the  movement  in  question  was  toward  the  very 
things  which  he  represented,  —  sensibility,  subjectivism,  and 
dalliance.  He  had,  moreover,  the  rare  advantage  of  being 
able  to  express  his  imaginings  in  a  style  which  for  simplicity, 
clearness,  effectiveness,  and  nearly  every  other  excellence, 
looks  almost  in  vain  for  an  equal.  Keen  sensibility,  uttered 
with  confident  and  touching  eloquence,  is  the  receipt  for  mak- 
ing fanatics,  and  Rousseau  made  them.  Meanwhile  his  ambi- 
tious rival,  Voltaire,  was  making  sceptics. 


EDUCATION  ACCORDING  TO  NATURE  157 

Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  was  born  at  Geneva  in  1712.  His 
father,  a  watchmaker  by  trade,  was  descended  from  an  old 
Parisian  family  and  inherited  the  French  characteristics,  — 
love  of  pleasure,  liveliness,  sensibility,  romanticism,  and  gal- 
lantry. Jean  Jacques's  mother  died  at  his  birth,  leaving  her 
son  to  the  care  of  his  aunt,  who  indulged  him  greatly.  At  the 
age  of  six  Rousseau  spent  every  evening,  and  occasionally  an 
entire  night,  in  reading  with  his  father  the  highly  colored 
romances  that  had  formed  his  mother's  library.  A  year  or 
two  later  he  was  interested  in  such  books  as  Plutarch's  Lives, 
Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  La  Sueur's  History  of  Church  and 
Empire,  and  Bossuet's  Lectures  on  Universal  History,  besides 
certain  volumes  of  Moliere.  Plutarch  was  his  favorite  author. 
"To  these  readings,"  he  says,  "and  the  conversations  with 
my  father  to  which  they  gave  rise,  I  owe  the  free,  republican 
spirit  and  the  unyielding  pride,  impatient  of  every  form  of 
servitude,  which  have  tormented  me  all  my  life.  .  .  .  There 
grew  in  me  this  heart  at  once  so  haughty  and  so  tender,  this 
effeminate  yet  indomitable  character,  which,  hovering  between 
weakness  and  courage,  has  always  placed  me  at  odds  with 
myself,  and  has  caused  me  to  miss  the  satisfaction  of  either 
abstinence  or  enjoyment,  indulgence  or  self-control." 

In  1720  when  his  father  left  Geneva  Rousseau  was  placed 
in  the  care  of  a  clergyman  at  Bossey  for  two  years.  The  rule 
was  kindly,  but  it  was  here  that  the  lad  suffered  an  unjust 
punishment  to  which  may  be  traced  the  origin  of  one  of 
Rousseau's  chief  doctrines  —  that  it  is  discipline  and  the  curb- 
ing of  natural  impulses  that  confuses  and  degrades  human 
nature.  Later  he  was  apprenticed  to  an  engraver,  a  rough 
and  violent  man.  Of  this  experience  Rousseau  writes  forty 
years  afterwards:  "I  was  driven  to  vices  which  otherwise  I 
should  have  hated,  such  as  lying,  idleness,  and  theft. .  .  .  Had 
I  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  better  master  I  should  have  passed, 
in  the  bosom  of  my  religion,  my  country,  my  family,  and  my 
friends,  a  quiet,  peaceable  life,  such  as  my  nature  demanded, 


158  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

amid  regular  work,  suited  to  my  taste,  and  a  society  suited  to 
my  heart."  The  whole  of  Rousseau  is  here.  Of  heroic,  moral 
goodness  in  the  midst  of  circumstances  offending  both  taste 
and  heart,  he  had  not  even  a  conception. 

After  running  away  from  his  master,  home,  and  relatives, 
Rousseau  lingered  a  short  time  in  the  neighborhood  of  Geneva, 
getting  food  and  shelter  as  best  he  could,  and  rioting  in  the 
sense  cf  animal  freedom,  and  in  romantic  visions  of  his  future 
career.  Thence  he  wandered  into  Savoy,  was  converted  to 
Catholicism,  and  for  many  months  endured  the  varying  for- 
tunes of  a  vagabond's  life.  Nothing,  perhaps,  is  more  charac- 
teristic of  Rousseau  than  his  description  of  his  Arcadian 
longings  and  his  self-pity  at  this  time.  "  I  must  have  an 
orchard  on  the  banks  of  Lake  Geneva,"  was  his  dream.  "I 
must  have  a  firm  friend,  a  sweet  wife,  a  cow,  and  a  little  boat. 
Till  I  have  all  these  I  shall  never  enjoy  complete  happiness 
on  earth.  ...  I  sighed  and  cried  like  a  child.  How  often, 
sitting  down  on  a  big  stone  to  weep  at  leisure,  did  I  amuse 
myself  by  watching  my  tears  fall  into  the  water  !  " 

Having  one  day  entered  a  peasant's  house  and  asked  for 
dinner,  offering  to  pay,  he  received  nothing  but  skimmed 
milk  and  coarse  barley  bread.  Later,  feeling  that  his  guest 
would  not  betray  him,  the  man  opened  a  trapdoor  in  the 
floor  and  brought  out  a  ham,  some  good  white  bread,  and  a 
bottle  of  wine,  on  which,  with  an  omelet,  Rousseau  made  a 
royal  dinner.  The  peasant  then  explained  to  him  that  in  order 
to  avoid  ruin  at  the  hands  of  the  taxgatherer  he  was  obliged 
to  feign  abject  poverty.  "All  this  was  absolutely  new  to 
me,"  writes  Rousseau,  "and  it  made  an  impression  that  will 
never  be  wiped  out.  This  was  the  germ  of  that  inextinguish- 
able hatred  which  grew  up  in  my  heart  against  the  oppressors 
of  the  unhappy  people." 

His  vagabondage,  which  lasted  four  years,  did  much  for 
him.  It  satisfied  his  lust  for  adventure ;  it  awoke  in  him  a 
profound  passion  for  rural  simplicity  ;  it  made  him  acquainted 


EDUCATION  ACCORDING  TO   NATURE  159 

with  the  common  people,  and  awakened  a  lively  sympathy  for 
them  ;  it  inspired  him  with  a  love  of  natural  scenery  such  as 
no  one  before  him  had  ever  felt ;  and  it  made  his  language 
the  expression  of  genuine  passion  and  first-hand  experience. 

For  nine  years  Rousseau  spent  the  greater  part  of  his 
time  at  the  home  of  his  patroness,  Madame  de  Warens. 
When  in  1741  they  wearied  of  each  other  he  left  her, 
resolving  to  try  his  fortune  in  Paris,  and  hoping,  if  he  were 
successful,  to  save  her  from  financial  ruin.  Up  to  this  time 
he  had  been  a  bundle  of  ardent  desires,  undisciplined  by 
either  serious  reflection  or  moral  training.  He  was  lying, 
faithless,  slanderous,  thievish,  sensual,  cruel,  cowardly,  selfish. 
Only  toward  the  end  of  this  period  do  germs  of  nobler  things 
begin  to  appear. 

Through  the  influence  of  Madame  de  Broglie  he  obtained 
a  secretaryship  at  Venice,  but  having  quarreled  with  the 
ambassador  by  whom  he  was  employed,  he  returned  to  Paris 
and  resumed  his  Bohemian  way  of  living.  Here  he  met 
Therese  Le  Vasseur.  His  loyalty  to  her  through  all  changes 
of  fortune  is  perhaps  the  noblest  trait  of  his  whole  life. 

The  productive  period  of  Rousseau's  career  is  included 
between  the  years  1741  and  1778.  It  was  during  this  time 
that  his  literary  and  musical  work  was  done.  In  1762  he 
published  his  famous  Emile,  a  philosophical  treatise  on  edu- 
cation that  involved  him  in  immediate  difficulties.  Threatened 
with  arrest,  he  fled  to  Switzerland  and  thence  to  England. 
He  returned  to  France  in  1767  and  lived  for  a  time  under 
an  assumed  name.  The  last  eight  years  of  his  life  were  spent 
in  Paris  ;  some  of  his  minor  works  belong  to  this  period.  A 
few  weeks  before  his  death  he  went  to  live  at  Ermenonville, 
about  twenty  miles  from  Paris,  and  there  he  died  suddenly  on 
July  2,  1778,  at  the  age  of  sixty-six. 

Perhaps  the  most  astonishing  thing  about  Rousseau  is  that 
he  went  through  life,  not  only  without  learning  the  meaning 
of  duty,  but  firmly  believing  that  the  life  of  pure  caprice  which 


160  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

he  led  was  the  ideal  life,  and  that  he  himself  was  the  best  of 
men.  This  indeed  he  openly  maintained.  So  far  was  he  from 
being  ashamed  of  his  undisciplined  spontaneity  that  he  wrote 
his  Confessions  to  prove  that  the  spontaneous  man  is  the  best 
of  men.  It  is  hardly  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  the  whole 
aim  of  his  literary  activity  was  to  show  how  men  may  be  made 
happy  and  contented  without  being  moral. 

But  what  Rousseau  sought  to  prove  by  eloquent  words,  by 
insidious  appeals  to  man's  natural  craving  for  happiness  on 
easy  terms,  he  disproved  by  his  own  example.  His  obtrusive 
independence,  due  to  absence  of  moral  ties,  was  spongy, 
unmanly,  and  repellent.  We  might  pity  him  if  he  did  not  pity 
himself  so  much  ;  but  we  can  in  no  case  admire  or  love  him. 
...  A  sadder  old  age  than  his  has  not  often  been  recorded. 

III.  Rousseau's  Social  and  Educational  Theories 

In  1749  Rousseau  wrote  an  essay,  which  won  the  Dijon 
Academy's  prize,  on  "  Has  the  Progress  of  the  Sciences  con- 
tributed to  corrupt  or  to  purify  Morals  ? "  This  discourse  was 
attacked  from  many  quarters,  but,  by  no  means  daunted,  he 
wrote  another  entitled,  "  What  is  the  Origin  of  Inequality 
among  Men,  and  is  it  authorized  by  the  Natural  Law  ? "  In 
this  he  assures  us  that  reflection  is  contrary  to  nature,  and 
that  the  man  who  thinks  is  a  depraved  animal.  He  draws  a 
picture  of  man  in  his  purely  animal  estate,  wandering  in  the 
forests,  without  industry,  without  speech,  without  home,  but 
free,  strong,  and  happy. 

Rousseau  next  shows  us  how  every  step  in  advancing  civil- 
ization has  led  to  corruption.  The  great  evil  of  inequality 
began  when  what  had  previously  been  common  to  all  was 
claimed  as  private  property.  From  this  point  on  it  is  easy  to 
follow  the  development  of  civil  society,  involving,  as  it  does, 
the  decay  of  freedom,  virtue,  and  happiness,  and  the  growth 
of  slavery,  vice,  and  misery. 


EDUCATION  ACCORDING  TO  NATURE  161 

In  a  letter  thanking  the  author  for  a  copy  of  this  discourse 
Voltaire  wrote :  "  Never  was  such  ability  put  forth  in  the 
endeavor  to  make  us  all  stupid.  On  reading  your  book  one 
longs  to  walk  on  all  fours."  The  work  is  indeed  in  many 
respects  absurd,  yet  it  contains  a  large  amount  of  solid  truth. 
What  Rousseau  wrote  of  the  origin  of  language  and  of  ideas 
is  better  than  anything  that  had  been  said  before  his  time. 
The  book  contains  not  only  the  tinder  that  kindled  the  French 
Revolution,  and  the  germ  that  burst  into  the  American  Dec- 
laration of  Independence,  but  also  the  forces  that  are  "  toiling 
in  the  gloom  "  under  the  surface  of  our  present  social  order. 
Lastly,  there  is  in  it  an  important  pedagogical  truth,  which 
may  be  summed  up  in  the  Greek  aphorism  :  "  Education  is 
learning  to  love  and  hate  correctly." 

This  discourse  was  written  in  1753,  not  long  before  Rous- 
seau's reversion  to  Protestantism.  Nine  years  later  he  pub- 
lished the  Social  Contract,  in  which,  recognizing  that  a  return 
to  the  state  of  nature  is  impossible,  he  tries  to  show  how 
man's  lost  freedom  may  be  recovered  in  the  state  of  culture. 
According  to  his  Social  Contract  each  individual  was  to  give 
up  his  personal  freedom,  and  accept  in  exchange  social  free- 
dom, by  submitting  himself  to  the  supreme  direction  of  the 
general  will.  There  is  always  danger,  however,  that  in  the 
enforcement  of  laws  there  may  be  some  tyranny  and  injustice. 
When  this  happens  the  "social  contract"  is  broken  and  the 
parties  to  it  return  to  a  state  of  nature,  free  from  all  authority, 
but  free  at  the  same  time  to  make  a  fresh  contract.  Here 
we  have  the  justification  of  revolution. 

Rousseau's  "  state  of  nature "  is  a  pure  fiction  of  the 
imagination.  Animal  caprice  is  not  freedom.  The  phrase 
"natural  rights"  is  self -contradictory,  for  where  there  is  no 
social  order  there  are  no  rights  ;  in  so  far  all  beings  are  equal. 
But  his  chief  error  lay  in  supposing  that  human  nature  could 
be  transformed  by  the  fiat  of  the  legislator,  and  society  be 
made  to  assume  any  arrangement  which  he  might  choose  to 


1 62  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

give  it.  No  good  can  ever  be  done  to  a  people  by  trying  to 
force  it  into  any  mold  prepared  for  it  from  without.  All  that 
the  wise  reformer  can  do  is  to  diffuse  such  knowledge  and 
culture  as  shall  give  a  deeper  and  wider  meaning  to  experi- 
ence and  so  make  possible  higher  ideals.  Any  attempt  to 
force  the  process,  or  to  substitute  for  its  slowly  but  freely 
attained  results  a  rigid,  unprogressive  scheme  such  as  Uto- 
pias are  sure  to  be,  can  lead  to  nothing  but  slavery  and  death. 

Rousseau's  educational  system  was  meant  to  be  a  prepara- 
tion for  that  sort  of  life  which  his  own  nature  pictured  to  him 
as  the  highest  —  a  quiet,  uneventful,  unreflective,  half  animal, 
half  childish  "natural  life,  free  from  serious  tasks,  aims,  and 
duties."  .  .  .  Had  he  been  logical  he  would  have  sent  chil- 
dren for  nurture  and  education  to  a  tribe  of  savages ;  but 
instead  he  propounded  this  problem  :  How  can  a  child,  born 
in  civilized  society,  be  so  reared  as  to  remain  unaffected  and 
uncorrupted  by  the  vices  inseparable  from  civilization  ?  His 
solution  is  given  in  Emile,  the  first  words  of  which  are: 
"  Everything  is  well  as  it  comes  from  the  hands  of  the  Author 
of  things  ;  everything  degenerates  in  the  hands  of  men." 

In  dealing  with  infant  life  Rousseau  lays  down  many  sen- 
sible but  chiefly  negative  rules.  The  young  child  is  not  to 
be  swaddled,  confined,  or  rocked,  but  to  be  allowed  the  utmost 
freedom  of  limb  and  voice.  Its  cries  must  be  attended  to  at 
once,  in  so  far  as  they  express  real  needs,  but  no  further. 
Father  and  mother  must  combine  all  their  efforts  to  develop 
the  nature  of  the  child.  The  directions  regarding  the  treat- 
ment and  food  of  the  infant  are  in  the  main  excellent.  They 
may  be  summed  up  in  the  one  precept :  Let  nature  have 
her  way. 

Rousseau  considered  that  habit  as  regards  set  times  for 
food,  sleep,  etc.,  was  something  to  be  avoided.  In  this  respect 
his  teaching  is  both  unnatural  and  unwise,  for  it  may  safely 
be  said  that  all  evolution  is  due  to  the  acquisition  of  habits. 
Habit  is  economy  of  energy. 


EDUCATION   ACCORDING  TO   NATURE  163 

To  Rousseau  the  end  of  existence  is  happiness,  and  happi- 
ness is  merely  the  sensuous  enjoyment  of  each  moment  as  it 
passes,  without  thought  for  higher  things,  without  regard  to 
others.  Whatever  interferes  with  present  enjoyment  is  to  be 
regarded  as  evil.  It  would  hardly  be  possible  to  form  a  more 
pitiful  conception  of  human  life  and  education  than  this. 
There  is  not  a  moral  or  noble  trait  in  it.  Instead  of  Noblesse 
oblige,  Rousseau's  maxim  amounts  to  Bonheur  invite.  In 
these  days  when  uncontrolled  individualism  still  has  its  advo- 
cates it  is  well  fully  to  realize  what  it  means.  "See  that 
children  have  a  good  time"  is  received  as  a  divine  oracle 
by  millions  of  parents  and  teachers.  No  wonder  that  a  good 
time  has  become  America's  chief  god  1 

Rousseau's  theory  of  education  was  destructive  of  all  social 
institutions  and  all  true  civilization.  He  maintained  that  chil- 
dren should  not  be  taught  obedience.  Since  nature  and  things 
resist  but  do  not  command,  the  teacher  should  do  the  same. 
Human  relations  should  be  replaced  by  mechanical  relations, 
if  the  precious  individuality  of  the  child  is  to  be  guarded. 
He  is  to  meet  the  iron  law  of  nature  everywhere,  the  love 
of  humanity  nowhere. 

Of  course  children  as  natural  creatures  are  never  to  be  rea- 
soned with.  "  Use  force  with  children  and  reason  with  men  ; 
such  is  the  natural  order.  .  .  .  The  child  may  be  bound,  pushed, 
or  held  back  with  merely  the  chain  of  necessity,  without  his 
murmuring."  In  this  way  he  will  never  learn  what  kindness 
is,  and  so  he  will  not  acquire  the  unnatural  sentiment  of  grati- 
tude, or  indeed  any  sentiment  of  a  human  sort. 

"  Early  education,"  says  Rousseau,  "  should  be  purely  nega- 
tive. Exercise  the  child's  body,  his  organs,  his  senses,  his 
strength;  but  keep  his  mind  indolent  as  long  as  possible." 
This  is  what  he  calls  natural  education,  but  it  is  a  highly 
artificial  one.  Nature  is  made  to  exclude  its  highest  mani- 
festations, and  then  the  child  is  watched,  dogged,  guided, 
and  forcibly  controlled  at  every  step,  and  all  for  the  sake  of 


!64  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

keeping  him  in  a  condition  of  sub-moral,  sub-human  innocence. 
The  only  moral  lesson  that  he  would  teach  children  is  to  do 
harm  to  nobody.  This  "involves  the  injunction  to  have  as 
little  to  do  with  society  as  possible  ;  for  in  the  social  state 
the  good  of  one  is  necessarily  the  evil  of  another."  It  is  need- 
less to  say  that  the  assertion  is  the  exact  opposite  of  the 
truth,  and  subversive  of  all  civilization. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  fimile  had  learned  only  to  play. 
Rousseau  would  now  have  him  cultivate  the  "sixth  sense, 
which  is  called  'common  sense,'  not  so  much  because  it  is 
common  to  all  men,  as  because  it  results  from  the  well-regu- 
lated use  of  the  other  senses."  The  boy  is  still  to  be  guided 
by  immediate  interests.  When  his  curiosity  is  roused  the 
natural  sciences  may  be  taught ;  but  he  is  to  study  nothing 
which  he  does  not  see  to  be  useful  for  his  own  special,  sen- 
suous ends.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  is  at  last  to  learn  to 
read,  and  his  one  book  is  to  be  Robinson  Crusoe,  which  will 
make  him  eager  to  learn  the  natural  arts.  With  regard  to 
these  Rousseau  says  :  "  The  first  and  most  respectable  of 
all  the  arts  is  agriculture.  I  should  give  blacksmithing  the 
second  place,  carpentry  the  third,  and  so  on." 

Rousseau  may  fairly  claim  the  honor  of  being  the  father 
of  manual  training.  While  admitting  that  the  isolated  man 
may  do  as  he  pleases  he  insists  that  in  society  everybody 
must  work.  And  manual  labor  is  to  be  preferred  to  every 
other,  as  affording  the  greatest  freedom.  He  poured  con- 
tempt upon  the  accumulated  treasures  of  human  experience 
and  upon  all  the  means  whereby  they  are  made  available  to 
individual  minds,  —  books,  study,  schools,  colleges,  univer- 
sities, social  intercourse.  He  continually  speaks  of  science, 
learning,  and  all  that  depends  upon  them,  as  degradations 
and  necessary  evils. 

But  Rousseau  had  other  teachings  which  were  of  a  differ- 
ent nature.  His  attacks  upon  luxury,  display,  and  the  vain 
waste  of  wealth,  and  his   eloquent  praises  of  plain,  simple, 


EDUCATION  ACCORDING  TO  NATURE  165 

modest  living,  have  laid  humanity  forever  under  deep  obliga- 
tions to  him.  When  a  century  later  Emerson  said,  "  Give 
me  health  and  a  day,  and  I  will  make  the  pomp  of  emperors 
ridiculous,"  he  had  been  to  school  to  Rousseau.  "  Good-bye, 
proud  world,  I  'm  going  home,"  might  have  been  written  by 
Rousseau. 

Of  Smile  at  the  close  of  his  boyhood  Rousseau  writes  thus  : 
"  He  has  all  the  virtues  that  relate  to  himself.  In  order  to 
have  also  the  social  virtues,  he  merely  requires  to  have  the 
relations  which  call  for  them,  and  the  light  which  his  mind  is 
now  completely  ready  to  receive.  Without  disquieting  any 
one  he  has  lived  contented  and  happy  so  far  as  nature  has 
allowed."  So  far,  rather,  as  Rousseau's  utterly  false  views  of 
nature  have  allowed  !  Smile  has  all  the  time  been  caged, 
watched,  and  trained  in  ignorance  into  complete  artificiality. 
He  is  now  an  altogether  fantastic  and  impossible  creature, 
utterly  unloving  and  unlovable. 

Having  hitherto  represented  rigid  necessity,  Smile's  tutor 
must  now  become  his  intimate  friend.  Under  his  guidance 
Smile  "  must  study  society  through  men,  and  men  through 
society,"  beginning  with  the  study  of  the  human  heart.  His 
surroundings  must  be  such  that  "  he  shall  think  well  of  those 
who  live  with  him,  and  become  so  well  acquainted  with  the 
world  as  to  think  everything  that  is  done  in  it  bad.  .  .  .  Let 
him  know,"  says  Rousseau,  "that  man  is  naturally  good,  but 
let  him  see  how  society  depraves  and  perverts  men.  .  .  .  Direct 
your  pupil  to  all  good  actions  that  are  possible  for  him ;  let 
the  interest  of  the  poor  be  always  his  interest ;  let  him  aid 
them,  not  only  with  his  purse  but  with  his  care  ;  let  him  serve 
them,  protect  them,  and  devote  his  time  to  them  ;  let  him 
become  their  agent ;  he  will  never  again  in  all  his  life  fill  so 
noble  a  place." 

By  what  process  the  animal,  self-centered  Smile  of  sixteen 
becomes  the  bold  philanthropist  of  eighteen,  Rousseau  says 
he  is  not  bound  to  tell  us,  and  we  never  find  out ;  but  the 


1 66  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

new  Emile,  if  he  could  be  considered  a  reality,  is  certainly 
an  admirable  creature  and  deserves  all  the  encomiums  of 
his  maker. 

To  Rousseau,  who  had  been  both  a  Catholic  and  a  Protes- 
tant, who  had  heard  his  father  tell  of  the  Moslems  in  Con- 
stantinople, and  who  had  listened  to  Voltaire,  sectarianism, 
with  its  exclusive  dogmas,  lost  all  meaning  and  authority. 
"Let  everybody,"  he  says,  "think  about  these  things  as  he 
pleases.  I  do  not  know  how  far  they  may  interest  other  peo- 
ple ;  they  do  not  interest  me  at  all.  But  what  interests  me 
and  others  like  me  is  that  every  one  should  know  that  there 
exists  an  Arbiter  of  the  lot  of  men,  whose  children  we  all  are  ; 
who  orders  us  to  be  just  ;  to  love  one  another;  to  be  kindly 
and  merciful ;  to  keep  our  agreements  with  everybody,  even 
with  our  enemies  and  his ;  that  the  apparent  happiness  of 
this  life  is  nothing ;  that  after  it  there  comes  another  in 
which  this  Supreme  Being  will  be  the  rewarder  of  the  good 
and  the  judge  of  the  wicked.  These  are  the  dogmas  which  it 
is  important  to  teach  young  people.  .  .  .  Keep  your  children 
always  within  the  narrow  circle  of  those  dogmas  which  relate 
to  morality." 

Smile's  courtship  is  carried  on  under  the  eye  of  the  despotic 
tutor,  who  at  first  arranges  everything  for  his  pupil's  gratifi- 
cation and  enjoyment.  Suddenly,  however,  this  epicurean  exist- 
ence is  changed  and  the  young  man  undergoes  the  severe 
discipline  of  a  stoic.  Man  must  now  rise  above  his  natural 
desires  and  take  Reason  for  a  guide.  Accordingly  Smile  is 
bidden  to  leave  his  Sophie  for  a  time,  and  to  set  his  strongest 
inclinations  at  defiance.  After  an  absence  of  two  years,  which 
are  devoted  to  travel,  and  in  which  Emile  learns  much  of  social 
obligations  and  responsibilities,  he  returns  to  Sophie  and  with 
their  marriage  the  book  ends. 

The  worst  feature  of  Rousseau's  treatment  of  the  part- 
ing of  the  lovers  is  that,  while  Smile  is  urged  to  obey  the 
voice  of  reason  and  conscience,  he  is  not  told  why  this  voice 


EDUCATION  ACCORDING  TO   NATURE  167 

should  be  obeyed  any  more  than  the  voice  of  passion  and 
interest.  So  far  as  we  are  shown,  both  are  equally  subjective 
and  blind,  and  there  is  no  third  faculty  to  be  umpire  between 
them. 

In  Rousseau's  next  work,  Emile  and  Sophie,  we  find  the 
hero  in  adversity.  Having  been  captured  by  Corsairs  and 
sent  to  the  galleys,  he  writes  :  "  In  my  present  state  what 
can  I  desire  ?  Alas  !  to  prevent  me  from  sinking  into  annihi- 
lation I  need  to  be  animated  with  another's  will  in  default 
of  my  own."  This  piece  of  characteristic  sophistry,  which 
would  justify  any  form  of  slavery,  convinces  him  that  his 
change  of  condition  is  more  apparent  than  real ;  "  that,  if 
liberty  consisted  in  doing  what  one  wishes,  no  man  would  be 
free  ;  that  all  are  weak,  dependent  upon  things  and  upon  stern 
necessity  ;  that  he  who  can  best  will  all  that  it  ordains  is  the 
most  free,  since  he  is  never  forced  to  do  what  he  does  not 
wish."  Here  we  have  the  germs  of  the  Schopenhauerian  doc- 
trine that  true  freedom  consists  in  renouncing  all  will,  even 
the  "will  to  live,"  which  means  that  to  be  happy  is  not  to  be 
at  all  —  the  last  conclusion  of  pessimism. 

Rousseau  proved  to  his  own  satisfaction  two  things:  (1)  that 
his  education  according  to  nature  will  enable  men  and  women 
to  stand  the  test  of  the  severest  adversity,  and  (2)  that  the  life 
of  cities  is  altogether  corrupt  and  corrupting. 

IV.  Rousseau's  Influence 

No  one  can  deny  that  the  influence  of  Rousseau's  ideas 
upon  educational  theory  and  practice  has  been,  and  still  is,  very 
great.  His  passionate  rhetoric  and  his  scorn  for  the  conven- 
tions as  contrasted  with  the  ideal  simplicity  of  nature  roused 
men  from  their  slumbers  and  made  them  reconsider  what  they 
had  so  long  blindly  accepted.  So  far  his  work  was  invaluable. 
His  bitter,  sneering  condemnation  of  the  fashionable  life  of 
his  time,  corrupt    and'  hypocritical,  with  its  distorting  and 


1 68  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

almost  dehumanizing  views  of  education ;  his  eloquent  plea 
for  a  return  to  a  life  that  was  truly  and  simply  human,  and  to 
an  education  calculated  to  prepare  for  such  a  life,  were  right- 
eous and  well  timed.  His  purpose  was  thoroughly  right,  and 
he  knew  how  to  make  himself  heard  in  giving  expression  to  it. 
But  when  he  came  to  inform  the  world  in  detail  how  this  pur- 
pose was  to  be  carried  out,  he  undertook  a  task  for  which 
he  was  not  fitted  either  by  natural  endowment  or  by  edu- 
cation. His  passionate,  dalliant  nature  prevented  him  from 
seeing  wherein  man's  highest  being  consists,  while  his  con- 
temptuous ignorance  of  study,  science,  and  philosophy  closed 
his  eyes  to  the  historic  process  by  which  men  have  not  only 
come  to  be  what  they  now  are,  but  by  which  their  future 
course  must  be  freely  determined. 

Gathering  up  the  various  defects  of  Rousseau's  social  and 
pedagogical  theories,  we  can  clearly  see  the  false  assumption 
that  lay  at  the  bottom  of  them  all.  It  is  a  very  common  and 
widespread  error,  and  is  fatal  wherever  it  occurs.  It  consists 
in  assuming  that  the  later  and  higher  stages  in  evolution  are 
to  be  explained  by  the  laws  that  manifest  themselves  in  the 
earlier  and  lower,  and  must  be  made  to  square  with  these.  It 
throws  forward  the  darkness  of  the  earlier  upon  the  later, 
instead  of  casting  back  the  light  of  the  later  upon  the  earlier. 
Thus  it  continually  tries  to  explain  human  nature  by  the  laws 
manifested  in  sub-human  nature.  It  insists  that  man  should 
go  back  and  allow  himself  to  be  governed  by  the  necessary 
laws  of  the  latter  as  the  fatalistic  Stoics  said.  This  is  the 
sum  and  substance  of  Rousseau's  teaching  in  sociology,  ethics, 
and  pedagogy.  It  is  the  sum  and  substance  of  much  popular 
teaching  in  all  departments  of  theory  and  practice  to  this  day. 
Yet  nothing  could  be  more  misleading  or  more  fatal  to  progress. 
The  acorn  does  not  explain  the  oak,  but  the  oak  the  acorn. 
The  meaning  of  the  acorn  is  revealed  in  the  oak,  and  the 
meaning  of  nature  in  culture.  Each  to-day  reveals  the  mean- 
ing of  all  yesterdays  and  contains  the  free  promise  of  all 


EDUCATION   ACCORDING  TO   NATURE  169 

to-morrows.  And  so  the  problem  of  life  is  not  to  make  man 
live  according  to  nature,  but  to  make  nature  live  according  to 
man ;  or  in  less  ambitious  phrase,  to  elevate  the  "  natural " 
into  the  "spiritual"  man;  blind  instinct  into  rational  freedom. 
Rousseau's  system,  therefore,  exactly  inverts  the  order  of  na- 
ture and  progress.  It  advocates  the  descent,  not  the  ascent, 
of  man. 

In  spite  of  this,  it  has  been  given  to  few  men  to  exert  by 
their  thought  an  influence  so  deep  and  pervasive  as  that  of 
Rousseau.    It  extended  to  all  departments  of  human  activity, 

—  philosophy,  science,  religion,  art,  politics,  ethics,  economics, 
and  pedagogy. 

In  philosophy  Rousseau  influenced  Kant,  and  through  him 
all  German,  and  therefore  all  modern,  philosophy.  Even  its 
latest  development,  agnosticism,  can  be  traced  back  through 
Kant's  unknowable  "  thing-in-itself  "  to  the  same  source. 

Rousseau's  influence  in  religion  was  felt  by  many  of  the 
French  Revolutionists,  especially  by  Robespierre  and  St.  Just, 
and  contributed  important  elements  to  the  neo-Catholic  renais- 
sance in  the  Latin  countries  and  to  the  Protestant  reaction 
in  the  Germanic,  as  well  as  to  English  and  American  Uni- 
tarianism.  It  was  also  the  determining  influence  in  the  theo- 
logical movements  initiated  by  Schleiermacher  and  Ritschl. 
In  art  his  influence  has  been  almost  paramount  throughout 
Christendom.  We  may  trace  his  footsteps  in  the  rural  cottages 
and  picturesque  parks  so  common  in  Europe  and  America ; 
in  the  landscape  paintings  and  genre  pictures  that  fill  our  gal- 
leries ;  and  in  the  nature  groups,  and  sentimentally  posed 
figures  that  delight  the  majority  of  our  sculptors. 

French  literature,  for  the  last  hundred  years,  has  been 
soaked  in  Rousseau's  teaching  ;  and  in  Germany  both  Goethe 
and  Schiller  were  powerfully  affected  by  him.    In  England 

—  where  the  poison  has  for  the  most  part  been  rejected  — 
his  influence  has  been  mainly  beneficial  and  can  be  traced  in 
the  writings  of  the  following  :  Burns,   Lady  Nairne,  Keats, 


170  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

Shelley,  Byron,  Southey,  Coleridge,  Wordsworth,  Leigh 
Hunt,  the  Brownings,  Carlyle  and  Ruskin,  Cloughand  Ten- 
nyson, Morris  and  Swinburne,  Dickens,  Thackeray,  George 
Eliot,  and  Mrs.  Ward.  On  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic 
we  find  Longfellow  and  Lowell,  Whittier  and  Emerson  ;  and 
among  the  Italians,  Leopardi,  Manzoni,  Carducci,  and  D'An- 
nunzio.  What  is  true  here  is  equally  true  of  the  literature 
of  Greece,  Scandinavia,  and  Russia.  Ibsen,  for  example,  is 
Rousselian  to  the  core. 

Turning  to  the  field  of  politics  we  find  that  the  French 
Revolution  was  in  very  large  degree  Rousseau's  work ;  and 
the  formulas  in  which  the  American  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence was  couched  were  largely  drawn  from  him.  Upon 
political  theory  the  effect  of  his  teaching  has  been  so  great 
that  he  may  be  fairly  called  the  father  of  modern  political 
science.  He  gave  wrong  answers  to  the  questions  which  he 
propounded  ;  but  these  questions  were  just  the  ones  that 
required  to  be  answered. 

Hovering  between  two  equally  immoral  systems,  Epicu- 
reanism and  Stoicism,  and  having  apparently  no  experience 
of  free  will,  Rousseau  developed  no  moral  system.  Neverthe- 
less, his  views  were  not  without  effect  upon  subsequent  ethical 
theories. 

In  the  sphere  of  economics  Rousseau's  influence,  though 
great,  is  quite  different  from  what  he  expected.  Though 
entirely  averse  to  socialism  and  anarchism,  he  was  in  large 
degree  the  parent  of  both.  His  stoicism  is  virtual  socialism, 
while  his  epicureanism  is  virtual  anarchism,  as  could  easily  be 
shown.  It  ought  to  be  added  that  one  of  the  noblest  and 
most  conspicuous  traits  in  Rousseau's  character  was  unfail- 
ing sympathy  with  the  poor  and  the  oppressed,  involving 
hatred  of  their  oppressors ;  and  it  is  this  sympathy  and  this 
hatred  —  which  his  example  did  much  to  make  common  — 
that  have,  respectively,  caused  the  socialistic  and  anarchistic 
movements  of  this  century. 


EDUCATION  ACCORDING  TO   NATURE  171 

Of  his  educational  demands  perhaps  only  three  have  been 
responded  to  :  (1)  that  children  should,  from  the  moment 
of  their  birth,  be  allowed  complete  freedom  of  movement ; 

(2)  that  they  should  be  educated  through  direct  experience, 
and   not    through    mere    information    derived   from   books ; 

(3)  that  they  should  be  taught  to  use  their  hands  in  the  pro- 
duction of  useful  articles.  But  certain  others  of  his  notions 
lingered  on  for  a  time,  much  to  the  detriment  of  education, 
and  were  with  difficulty  shaken  off. 

To  give  an  account  of  all  the  educators  influenced  by  Rous- 
seau would  be  to  write  a  history  of  modern  pedagogy.  Among 
the  chief,  however,  are  Pestalozzi,  Herbart,  Froebel,  and 
Antonio  Rosmini-Serbati ;  the  latter  far  less  known,  but  well 
deserving  of  careful  study  by  educators. 

Rousseau's  Emile  has  made  men  attempt  to  defend  exist- 
ing systems  of  education,  and,  finding  that  they  could  not, 
resolve  and  endeavor  to  discover  better  ones.  There  is  still 
much  to  be  done.  We  have,  even  now,  no  scientific  theory  of 
pedagogy  ;  and  the  reason  is  that  we  have  no  scientific  theory 
of  human  nature.  We  are  still  distracted  and  blinded  to  the 
truth,  on  the  one  hand  by  certain  traditional  conceptions  that 
once  formed  part  of  a  view  of  world  economy  long  since  ren- 
dered unbelievable  and  obsolete,  and  on  the  other,  by  certain 
modern  philosophic  prejudices  of  a  dualistic  sort  for  which 
Kant  is  in  the  main  responsible.  The  former  make  us  still 
inclined  to  believe  that  the  soul  is  a  created  substance 
beyond  the  reach  of  experience,  a  transcendental  monad,  pos- 
sessed of  certain  fixed  faculties  and  capable  of  being  trained 
only  in  a  certain  definite  direction  to  a  fore-appointed  end. 
The  latter  make  us  believe  that  it  is  a  bundle  of  categories, 
empty  thought-forms,  existing  prior  to  all  sensation  or  experi- 
ence, and  conditioning  it.  In  either  case  we  are  irrationally 
induced  to  regard,  and  to  talk  about,  the  soul  as  something 
other  than  what  by  experience  —  the  only  source  of  true  knowl- 
edge—  we  know  it  to  be,  and  thus  to  build  our  educational 


172  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

theories  upon  a  mere  chimera.  There  is  not  one  fact  in  our 
experience  going  to  show  that  the  soul  is  either  a  substance 
or  a  bundle  of  categories.  Indeed,  when  subtly  considered 
these  words  are  absolutely  without  meaning.  When  we  ask 
what  we  know  the  soul  to  be  we  can  only  answer :  A  sentient 
desire,  or  desiderant  feeling,  which  through  its  own  effort 
after  satisfaction  gradually  differentiates  itself  into  a  world, 
or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  gradually  learns  to  refer  its  satis- 
factions to  a  world  of  things  in  time  and  space.  Feeling  is 
primary ;  ideas,  or  differentiations  in  feeling,  are  secondary ; 
—  exactly  the  contrary  of  what  Herbart  believed.  The  world 
that  we  know,  whether  material  or  spiritual,  is  entirely  made 
up  of  feeling  differentiated  by  ideas. 

The  end  of  education,  therefore,  can  be  none  other  than  the 
complete  satisfaction  of  feeling  by  an  ever-increasing,  har- 
monious, that  is,  unitary,  differentiation  of  it  into  a  world  of 
sources  of  satisfaction.  This  satisfaction  will  be  greater  in 
proportion  as  the  sources  are  richer  and  more  numerous. 
Hence,  every  soul  will  be  consulting  for  its  own  satisfaction 
by  doing  its  best  to  satisfy  every  other  soul,  and  to  make  it 
as  rich  as  possible.  Thus  the  most  perfect  egoism  will  be 
found  to  be  one  with  the  most  perfect  altruism,  and  the  law 
of  virtue  to  be  one  with  the  law  of  blessedness,  as  in  the  end 
it  must  be,  unless  all  existence  be  a  mockery.  On  this  view 
of  the  soul,  and  on  this  alone,  will  it  be  possible  to  erect  an 
intelligible  and  coherent  structure  of  education  —  intellectual, 
affectional,  and  moral. 


CHAPTER  XX 
INTELLECTUAL  PIETY 

In  addition  to  his  longer  and  more  important  works  Thomas 
Davidson  wrote  many  short  articles  on  philosophical,  literary, 
and  political  subjects.  The  majority  of  these  are  extremely 
suggestive,  and  have  elements  in  them  of  perennial  interest. 
Such  were  his  papers  on  "  American  Democracy  as  a  Religion," 
in  the  International  Journal  of  Ethics  (October,  1899) ;  "  Edu- 
cation as  World  Building,"  in  the  Educational  Review  (Novem- 
ber, 1900);  "Intellectual  Piety:  a  Lay  Sermon"  (1896);  "Faith, 
as  a  Faculty  of  the  Human  Mind"  (a  paper  read  by  him  at  a 
philosophical  convention  held  at  Chicago) ;  and  many  others 
contributed  to  the  Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy.  I  select 
two  of  the  above-named  for  partial  reproduction  in  this  book. 

Intellectual  Piety:  a  Lay  Sermon 

Of  all  a  man's  duties  none  is  so  essential,  none  so  funda- 
mental, as  the  duty  of  knowing  the  truth ;  and  yet  none  has 
been  so  seldom  enforced  by  religious  sanctions,  none  is  so 
frequently  made  light  of  and  ignored.  If  we  were  asked  to 
point  out  the  crowning  defect  in  all  the  systems  of  ethics 
hitherto  promulgated,  we  should  probably  not  be  far  wrong 
if  we  should  say,  Failure  to  impress  the  duty  of  knowing 
before  acting.  To  this  evil  may  be  traced  by  far  the  majority 
of  evils  that  infest  the  world  around  us. 

Moral  action  is  distinguished  from  all  other  kinds  of  action 
by  this,  that  it  is  action  based  upon  conscious  choice.  We 
refuse  the  attribute  "moral"  to  all  mechanical  and  instinc- 
tive action,  for  no  other  reason  than  because  it  is  unaccom- 
panied by  choice.    Even  in  the  case  of  human  beings  we  make 

173 


174  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

moral  responsibility  coextensive  with  power  to  choose;  and 
call  a  man  who  acts  from  uncontrollable  impulse,  passion,  or 
instinct,  insane. 

Now  choice,  the  basis  of  all  moral  action,  depends  upon 
intellectual  appreciation.  An  error  in  intellectual  appreciation 
is  a  moral  error.  The  criminality  of  the  greatest  of  crimes  is 
wholly  due  to  the  intellectual  act  that  preceded  it,  and  van- 
ishes when  that  act  can  be  shown  to  have  been  pious.  This 
is  the  sole  justification  of  just  warfare,  and  of  the  legal  execu- 
tion of  criminals. 

Before  proceeding  to  show  the  evils  that  arise  from  in- 
tellectual impiety,  and  the  supreme  necessity  of  intellectual 
piety,  let  me  try  to  make  its  nature  clear.  Nothing  is  more 
familiar  to  us  than  the  fact  that  knowledge  of  the  right  does 
not  insure  the  performance,  that  mere  knowledge  has  but 
a  limited  moral  force.  Now  intellectual  appreciation  differs 
from  knowledge  in  this,  that  it  is  knowledge  armed  with  moral 
efficiency,  knowledge  which  commands  respect  and  submis- 
sion. We  are  wont  to  express  this  familiarly  by  saying  that 
not  only  a  man's  head,  but  also  his  heart,  must  be  right.  Not 
only  the  thoughts  of  the  head,  but  also  the  thoughts  of  the 
heart  (to  use  the  profound  old  English  biblical  expression), 
must  be  pure,  and  a  man  wants  a  new  heart  far  more  frequently 
than  a  new  head.  The  truth  is,  that  the  element  of  piety  in 
the  intellect  is  due  to  what  we  may  call  the  heart  more  than  to 
what  we  may  call  the  head.    Let  me  make  this  a  little  clearer. 

I  have  on  other  occasions  explained  that,  by  intellect  as 
distinct  from  reason,  I  mean  the  primitive  faculty  which 
grasps  the  essential  ideal  unity  of  the  universe,  which  makes 
it  possible  for  us  to  transform  our  groups  of  sensations  into 
things,  and  look  at  these  as  something  distinct  from,  and 
independent  of,  ourselves  —  to  look  at  them  as  something 
objective.  I  have  also  said  that  this  faculty  is  the  source  of 
all  freedom,  a  fact,  indeed,  which  follows  directly  from  its 
being  the  moral  faculty.    But  observe  that  intellect  is  not  by 


INTELLECTUAL  PIETY  175 

itself  sufficient  to  insure  freedom.  Before  it  can  do  so,  an 
element  uniting  the  two  must  intervene.  Mere  intellectual 
comprehension  is  absolutely  cold  and  inactive.  It  is  possible 
to  conceive  a  being  gifted  with  perfect  intelligence,  and  yet 
remaining  entirely  inactive  from  want  of  any  motive  to  action. 
If  all  things  were  indifferent  to  it,  that  is,  if  one  thing  had  no 
more  value  for  it-  than  another,  it  would  certainly  not  act  with 
reference  to  any  of  them ;  it  would  not  choose  one  in  prefer- 
ence to  another,  and,  therefore,  would  not  be  free  in  any 
important  sense.  What  turns  intellect  into  a  spring  of  action 
and  freedom  is  not  its  power  of  distinguishing  things,  but  its 
power  of  seeing  that  things  have  different  values,  that  one 
thing  is  better  than  another,  and,  therefore,  to  be  preferred  to 
another.  Better  and  preferred  are  only  terms  for  more  lov- 
able, more  deserving  to  be  adhered  to  by  the  faculties  of  the 
spirit,  more  worthy  to  determine  the  attitude  of  the  spirit. 
When  the  spirit  accommodates  itself  to  the  things  it  beholds, 
in  exact  proportion  to  their  ideal  value,  it  is  perfectly  free  ; 
for  it  is  determining  itself  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  being. 
In  other  words,  piety  of  intellect  consists  not  in  a  clear,  cold 
distinguishing  of  one  thing  from  another,  but  in  the  power  to 
appreciate  the  different  values  of  things,  when  so  distinguished ; 
that  is  to  say,  in  loving  things  in  exact  proportion  to  their 
intrinsic  worth.  The  moral  power  of  intellect  consists  solely 
in  its  ability  to  distinguish  worth,  and  this  ability  is,  in  the 
strictest  sense,  the  ability  to  love.  Since  love  is  usually  con- 
sidered a  matter  of  the  heart,  we  may  say  that  intellectual 
piety  lies  in  the  thoughts  of  the  heart.  In  fact,  it  is  only 
the  truth  which  is  revealed  to  the  heart  that  has  any  moral 
effect.  This  was  clearly  recognized  by  the  old  Hebrew 
prophets.    Isaiah,  for  example,  says  : 

By  hearing  ye  shall  hear,  and  shall  in  no  wise  understand  ; 
And  seeing  ye  shall  see,  and  shall  in  no  wise  perceive  ; 
For  this  people's  heart  is  waxed  gross, 
And  their  ears  are  dull  of  hearing, 


176  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

And  their  eyes  they  have  closed  ; 

Lest  haply  they  should  perceive  with  their  eyes, 

And  hear  with  their  ears, 

And  understand  with  their  heart 

And  should  turn  again,  and  I  should  heal  them. 

The  truth  is,  that  there  is  no  chance  of  a  man's  being 
healed  unless  he  understands  with  his  heart,  that  is,  until  he 
loves  things  in  accordance  with  their  true  value.  If  in  this 
connection  we  ask,  What  is  morality  ?  what  is  religion  ?  we 
shall  get  a  ready  answer  :  Morality  is  action  in  strict  accor- 
dance with  the  relative  value  of  things.  Religion  is  the  love 
which  prompts  this  action.  Immorality  and  injustice  are 
simply  distribution  of  action  according  to  a  false  estimate, 
and  impiety  or  irreligion  is  the  spirit  of  misdirected  love 
which  prompts  this  distribution. 

If,  now,  we  look  away  from  theory  and  turn  our  eyes  upon 
the  seething,  toiling,  competing,  suffering,  self -flaunting  world 
about  us,  and  ask  ourselves  the  cause  of  all  that  is  not 
satisfactory  there,  we  can  see  that  it  is  the  false  estimate 
placed  by  men  upon  the  things  of  the  world,  the  want  of  intel- 
lectual piety.  Men,  instead  of  making  themselves  acquainted 
with  the  constitution  of  the  world  —  as  by  calm  attention 
and  patient  study  they  might — and  distributing  their  inter- 
est and  affection  in  accordance  with  the  relative  value  of 
things,  rush  into  life  blindly  and  without  thought,  adopt 
conventional  standards  of  value,  and  so  frequently  spend 
their  days  in  impiety,  upholding  injustice,  or  following  current 
fashion.  One  does  not  need  to  examine  the  lives  of  the  mass 
of  mankind  very  closely  to  see  that  not  two  in  every  hundred 
of  them  have  ever,  in  all  seriousness  and  without  prejudice, 
put  to  themselves  the  question,  How  must  I  distribute  my 
interest  and  affection  among  the  objects  which  I  find  in  the 
universe,  in  order  that  I  may  do  justice  to  all,  and  so  live  a  life 
in  accordance  with  its  laws  —  a  true  moral  and  religious  life  ? 


INTELLECTUAL  PIETY  177 

Indeed,  not  only  is  this  general  question  rarely  put,  but 
hardly  any  attempt  is  made  to  distribute  interest  in  any  just 
way,  even  among  the  commoner  things  usually  deemed  worthy 
of  interest.  In  a  large  class  of  society,  interest  and  affection 
are  distributed  almost  in  inverse  ratio  to  the  value  of  things. 
The  more  frivolous  a  thing  is,  the  more  interest  does  it 
excite.  People  are  given  up  to  the  frivolous  —  to  frivolous 
talk,  frivolous  reading,  frivolous  work,  frivolous  pleasure. 
But  even  in  classes  which  claim  a  certain  amount  of  serious- 
ness, the  scale  of  interest  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  real 
value  of  things ;  there  is  hardly  any  trace  of  intellectual 
piety.  In  by  far  the  majority  of  families  in  almost  any  city 
or  country  I  know,  the  all-absorbing  interests  are  wealth  and 
comfort ;  higher  things,  art,  science,  and  even  religion,  are 
looked  upon  as  merely  amusements,  or  as  furnishing  oppor- 
tunities for  the  display  of  wealth.  Only  among  the  very  few, 
among  men  generally  regarded  as  unpractical  dreamers,  is 
there  any  serious  attempt  to  distribute  affection  in  accordance 
with  the  true  value  of  things  ;  to  love  with  supreme  love  that 
which  is  highest,  the  eternal ;  next,  that  which  most  closely 
approaches  the  eternal ;  and  last  of  all,  that  which  in  its  nature 
is  fleeting  and  unreal. 

The  men  who  do  this  are  the  only  men  in  the  world  who 
are  truly  happy,  living  the  natural  life  of  the  spirit,  at  peace 
with  heaven  and  earth,  shedding  goodness  on  all  sides,  because 
they  have  nothing  else  in  them  to  shed.  But  such  men  hardly 
seem  to  be  of  the  world,  though  they  are  in  it ;  and,  indeed, 
if  we  mean  by  the  world  the  complex  of  material  phenomena, 
they  are  not  in  the  world  with  the  best  part  of  them.  Their 
intellectual  piety  makes  them  fix  their  affections  upon  things 
whereof  material  phenomena  are  but  fleeting  manifestations. 
If  all  men  followed  the  example  of  these  few,  life  would  be 
blessed,  sin  and  suffering  would  almost  entirely  cease,  and 
earth  would  become  heaven. 


178  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

But  what  is  the  effect  of  the  opposite  course,  of  distribu- 
ting affection  falsely,  of  neglecting  and  ignoring  those  things 
that  are  of  the  highest  moment,  and  loving  those  of  inferior 
merit  with  the  heart's  best  love  ?  We  have  only  to  look 
around  us  to  see.  Just  consider  what  the  effect  of  setting  the 
heart  upon  wealth,  position,  show,  or  comfort  is,  not  to  speak 
of  lower  and  criminal  things  ?  Is  not  this  one  result  of  intel- 
lectual impiety  the  cause  of  well-nigh  all  the  evil  with  which 
philanthropists  are  trying  to  contend,  which  threatens  to  grow 
over  our  heads,  to  overwhelm  our  civilization,  and  conduct  us 
back  to  barbarism  ?  Suppose,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  whole 
human  race  suddenly  became  intellectually  pious,  and  set 
upon  each  thing,  spiritual  and  material,  its  proper  value. 
How  long  do  you  think  the  present  brutal  condition  of  soci- 
ety, in  which  each  one  struggles  to  supplant  or  overreach  his 
neighbor  and  make  the  fruit  of  the  earth  fall  into  his  own 
basket,  would  last  ?  Not  an  hour.  Let  wealth,  ease,  and 
comfort,  position,  and  pride  once  be  measured  by  the  standard 
of  true  intellectual  piety,  and  they  will  cease  to  seem  worth 
struggling  for,  except  in  so  far  as  they  contribute  to  make 
the  realization  of  higher  ends  for  all  spiritual  beings  possible. 

A  great  deal  might  be  said  upon  the  blessed  effects  of 
intellectual  piety,  and  the  accursed  effects  of  intellectual 
impiety  ;  but  it  is  so  easy,  by  a  little  thought,  to  realize  both, 
that  the  above  indications  may  suffice.  Let  us  now  ask  our- 
selves (1)  how  the  now  prevailing  intellectual  impiety  came 
about,  and  (2)  how  it  may  be  best  remedied,  and  the  world 
restored  to  intellectual  piety  and  its  blessed  results. 

First,  then,  how  did  the  widespread  intellectual  impiety, 
which  at  present  confounds  and  mars  the  world,  come  about  ? 
Mainly  from  two  causes  :  (1)  the  natural,  constitutional  impiety 
of  the  human  heart,  and  (2)  the  transition  which  is  at  present 
going  on  in  the  world  from  one  kind  of  intellectual  piety, 
namely  submission  to  authority,  to  another,  namely  individual 
insight.    Let  us  consider  these  two  causes  in  their  order. 


INTELLECTUAL  PIETY 


179 


(1)  The  natural  impiety  of  the  human  heart.  In  saying 
that  the  human  heart  is  impious  by  nature,  I  am  using  the 
term  nature  in  its  old  original  sense  of  instinctive  tendency, 
and  not  as  meaning  essence.  The  human  spirit  is  in  essence 
thoroughly  pious  ;  in  other  words,  its  true  essence  is  realized 
only  when  it  becomes  thoroughly  pious.  It  would  be  strictly 
correct  to  say  that  perfect  piety  is  the  ideal,  and  the  destined 
end  of  the  human  soul.  But  the  human  soul  is  able  to  realize 
this,  which  is  at  first  only  implicit  in  it,  solely  through  the 
medium  of  the  senses,  solely  through  stimulating  and  awaken- 
ing influences  derived  from  other  beings,  since  no  being  can 
act  or  develop  without  a  stimulus  from  without.  In  its  lowest 
stages  the  soul  is  lethargic  and  hard  to  rouse.  It  can  be 
stirred  only  by  acute  stimuli  due  to  numerous  external  beings 
acting  upon  it  at  once,  and  even  then  it  is  roused  to  only  the 
lowest  and  least  intelligent  kind  of  activity,  namely,  reflex 
action.  Now  the  habits  of  the  soul  are  formed  by  its  actions, 
and  these  at  first  are  determined  solely  by  the  nature  of  the 
external  stimuli.  These  stimuli  being  violent,  —  necessarily 
so,  in  order  to  rouse  the  soul's  latent  activity,  —  the  soul  learns 
from  the  first  to  determine  itself,  and  to  act  solely  with  rela- 
tion to  violent  stimuli.  The  more  violent  the  stimulus,  the 
more  certainly  and  strongly  does  the  soul  react. 

Not  only  so,  but  when  a  stronger  and  a  weaker  stimulus 
affect  it  at  once  (other  things  being  equal)  it  may  very  readily, 
in  reacting  against  the  stronger  stimulus,  neglect  the  weaker 
altogether.  It  is  this  inborn  and  necessary  tendency  of  the 
spirit,  in  its  lower  phases  of  development,  to  respond  to 
stimuli  in  proportion  to  their  strength  that  I  would  term  the 
natural  impiety  of  the  spirit.  It  is  what  the  theologians  mean 
by  the  term  original  sin,  which  they  have  tried  to  account  for 
by  various  myths,  such  as  the  temptation  of  Eve,  which  has  a 
curious  kernel  of  truth  at  the  heart  of  it.  So  long  as  the  spirit 
remains  in  a  purely  animal  and  natural  condition,  this  tendency 
to  respond  to  the  strongest  stimuli  is  really  no  impiety  at  all. 


180  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

It  is  really  the  piety  of  animal  nature,  whose  highest  good  is 
pleasure,  and  whose  highest  evil  is  pain.  But  the  time  comes, 
for  certain  spirits  at  least,  when  out  of  and  over  the  animal 
nature,  developed  to  its  highest,  there  arises  another  nature, 
totally  different  in  kind  from  the  former,  and  tending  in  very 
large  measure  to  counteract  and  govern  it. 

I  shall  not  try  to  determine  at  what  point,  and  under  what 
circumstances,  this  higher  nature  passes  from  latency  into 
activity.  That,  in  certain  beings,  it  does  so  pass,  is  a  fact, 
and  the  fact  is  sufficient  for  my  present  purpose.  This  higher 
nature  is  the  intelligent  nature.  As  soon  as  this  begins  to 
manifest  itself  in  any  being,  that  being  begins  a  new  phase  of 
existence.  It  ceases  to  respond  to  stimuli  in  proportion  to 
their  strength.  Such  response,  which  belongs  to  its  merely 
animal  nature,  becomes  impiety,  assumes  the  attitude  of  origi- 
nal sin.  In  accordance  with  its  new  nature  it  gradually 
ceases  to  respond  to  stimuli,  as  such,  at  all,  and  responds  to 
things  with  power  proportionate  to  their  ideal  value,  as 
intellectually,  that  is,  freely,  conceived.  In  a  word,  the  being 
in  question  passes  gradually  out  of  the  region  of  material, 
sensible  stimuli,  into  a  region  of  ideal  motives,  which,  being 
inactive  and  unstimulating,  leave  the  action  of  the  spirit  per- 
fectly free.  All  the  action  of  adherence  or  non-adherence  on 
the  part  of  the  spirit  is  due  to  the  pure  inner  spontaneity  of 
the  spirit,  to  pure  spiritual  love  or  aspiration.  But  the  process 
from  animality  to  perfect  intellectuality,  in  other  words,  to 
piety  of  intellect,  is  very  difficult  and  slow.  The  animal  habit 
of  responding  to  strong  material  stimuli  fights  along  with  the 
intellectual  need  of  spiritually  aspiring.  Indeed,  it  is  this 
fight  that  constitutes  the  entire  interest  in  human  life  and 
human  history.  Slowly,  as  man  advances,  he  unlearns  his 
animal  habits,  or,  at  least,  learns  to  subordinate  them  to  his 
intellectual  insights.  More  and  more  his  actions  become 
guided  by  ideas  and  less  by  stimuli.  For  a  very  long  time 
ideas  have  to  be  embodied  either  in  art,  or  in  living  human 


INTELLECTUAL  PIETY  181 

beings,  in  order  to  be  effective ;  and  a  man's  spiritual  height 
can  at  any  time  be  accurately  measured  by  the  spirituality  or 
ideality  of  the  art,  or  of  the  human  beings,  whom  he  loves. 
At  bottom  a  man  is  exactly  what  he  loves. 

I  say  "for  a  very  long  time"  but  I  might  have  said  "for- 
ever"; because  I  believe  that,  in  order  to  be  truly  effective, 
ideas  must  always  be  embodied.  Unless  they  are  so,  they 
never  appeal  fully  to  our  faculty  of  aspiration,  but  have  always 
the  chill  of  an  imposed  duty,  a  chill  which  damps  the  purest 
ardor  of  the  soul.  That  is  good  Christian  doctrine  ;  because, 
while  Judaism  called  upon  men  to  obey  God's  law,  Christianity 
called  upon  them  to  love  God,  as  manifested  in  Jesus  Christ. 
But,  although  we  cannot  fully  love  ideas,  or  ideal  things, 
except  as  embodied,  it  does  not  follow  that  we  need  be  led 
astray  by  the  embodiment.  Embodiment,  as  such,  is  simply 
forcible  presentation.  But,  in  the  long  run,  all  embodied  ideas 
only  serve  to  lead  up  to  that  pure  idea  which  is  the  end  of 
love,  and  the  vision  of  which  is  the  soul  of  freedom  and 
blessedness. 

From  what  has  been  said  you  will  see  that  the  intellectual 
impiety  of  our  day,  as  well  as  of  all  other  days,  is,  primarily 
and  in  large  measure,  due  to  the  natural  impiety  of  the  human 
heart,  the  necessary  legacy  of  the  animal  nature.  It  is  the 
animal  nature  fighting  with  the  intellectual  nature,  the  "  law 
of  the  flesh  warring  against  the  law  of  the  spirit,"  that  makes 
men  direct  their  affections  toward  the  coarse,  strong  stimuli 
of  wealth,  ease,  gluttony,  pomp,  and  all  the  other  objects  to 
which  animal  selfishness  naturally  tends,  and  that  brings  about 
all  the  sin  and  suffering  that  there  is  in  the  world. 

(2)  But  the  present  prevalence  of  intellectual  impiety  in  the 
world  is  partly  due  to  another  reason,  namely,  to  the  transi- 
tion through  which  we  are  passing,  from  the  intellectual  piety 
of  authority  to  the  intellectual  piety  of  insight.  All  transi- 
tions from  one  ideal  to  another  are  slow  and  difficult,  but 
this  one  is  especially  so,  because  its  consequences  are  so  far- 


1 82  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

reaching,  extending  to  every  institution  of  society,  and  every 
attitude  of  the  individual.  Perhaps  you  will  find  it  strange 
that  I  use  such  an  expression  as  "  intellectual  piety  of  author- 
ity," as  if  submission  to  authority  could  consist  with  intellectual 
piety.  But  so  it  was,  and,  to  a  very  large  extent,  so  it  is  even 
now.  At  a  certain  stage  in  human  development  intellectual 
piety  consists  in  reverent  submission  to  authority.  Such  sub- 
mission is  simply  what  we  call  faith,  neither  more  nor  less. 
Faith  at  one  time  was  intellectual  piety.  There  is  no  use  in 
hiding  that  fact  from  ourselves  ;  but  it  is  not  so  now.  Now- 
adays, intellectual  piety  is  submission  to  pure  intelligence,  in 
the  sense  in  which  I  have  been  using  that  term,  as  compre- 
hending spiritual  insight,  love,  and  freedom.  The  transition 
from  one  mental  attitude  to  the  other  is  what  we  are  now 
passing  through,  and  what  is  introducing  so  much  confusion 
into  our  institutions,  so  much  impiety  into  our  lives.  Let 
us  consider  the  two  attitudes.  They  mark  two  eras  in  the 
world's  history,  the  one  the  era  in  which  the  individual  is  re- 
garded as  the  servant  and  creature  of  institutions,  the  other 
the  era  in  which  he  is  looked  on  as  the  lord  and  creator  of 
institutions. 

In  times  when  animal  habits  and  sensual  brutality  were 
still  fighting  hand  to  hand  with  the  first  cold  dawnings  of 
intellectual  insight,  that  insight  was  in  a  very  disadvantage- 
ous position.  Its  power  was  slight  compared  with  that  of  its 
foe,  and  though,  being  eternal,  it  could  not  be  crushed,  it 
could  be  rendered  almost  powerless,  unless  it  was  so  embodied 
as  to  be  able  to  utilize  some  of  its  enemies'  brute  force. 
Under  these  circumstances,  in  order  to  be  effective  at  all,  it 
was  forced  to  ally  itself  with  that  half-animal,  half-divine  in- 
stinct of  personal  ambition.  Men  of  clear  heads,  eager  for 
power,  were  glad  to  have  such  an  ally  —  an  ally  which  has  no 
superior.  Insight  results  in  justice,  and  justice  is  the  pillar  of 
power.  Thus  intelligence,  in  its  battle  with  animality,  found 
strength  only  by  taking  on  the  form  of  individual  authority. 


INTELLECTUAL  PIETY  183 

This  individual  was  at  first  a  tribal  patriarch,  later  on  a  chief, 
later  still  a  king,  and,  if  he  abused  his  authority,  a  tyrant. 
When  individual  authority[became  thus  tyrannical  and  abusive 
the  insight  and  sense  of  justice,  ^which  had  now  grown  up, 
turned  against  it ;  having  found  an  ally  in  the  self-respect  of 
a  morally  developed  people,  aided  sometimes  by  what  were 
supposed  to  be  miraculous,  divine  sanctions.  When  tyrannies 
were  put  down,  and  insight  and  justice  no  longer  found 
strength  in  individual  ambition,  they  were  embodied  in  laws 
and  legal  systems,  which  imposed  themselves  as  abstract 
rules  upon  human  life,  and  the  transgression  of  which  entailed 
punishment.  But  in  both  cases  —  whether  embodied  in  human 
individuals  or  in  legal  systems  and  institutions  —  the  insight 
which  constitutes  the  higher  nature  appears  to  the  generality 
of  men  as  a  restriction  and  a  fetter.  Doubtless  they  learned  to 
submit  gracefully  to  this  restriction,  and  even  to  hug  the  fetter, 
but  such  submission  was  always  felt  to  be  a  form  of  subjection. 
The  divine,  simply  as  such,  was  not  loved,  nor  did  men  in  sub- 
mitting to  its  dictates  — called  by  the  name  of  justice  —  feel 
themselves  free.  vEschylus,  one  of  the  greatest  of  ancient 
seers  and  poets,  tells  us,  "There  is  no  one  free  but  Jupiter." 
I  need  not  tell  you  that  all  the  forms  of  government  that 
have  ever  been  are  only  so  many  arrangements  for  giving 
effect  to  the  divine  insight,  and  imposing  it  upon  men  inclined 
to  follow  their  animal  nature  and  habits.  In  ancient  times 
these  governments  armed  themselves  not  only  with  what  we 
are  wont  to  term  the  terrors  of  the  law,  but  also  with  power 
derived  from  current  beliefs  in  supernatural  agency,  which 
beliefs  were  themselves  a  very  crude  form  of  divine  insight. 
While  men  were  in  this  condition  it  is  plain  that  intellectual 
piety,  so  far  as  such  a  thing  could  be  said  to  exist  at  all,  con- 
sisted in  submission  to  constituted  authority;  for  it  was 
through  such  submission  that  the  higher  nature  of  man  was 
in  any  way  enabled  to  triumph  over  the  lower.  As  the  Bible 
expresses  it,  the  law  was  a  taskmaster,  and,  in  the  earlier 


1 84  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

stages  of  advancement,  obedience  to  this  taskmaster  was  the 
best  thing  that  men  could  do.  If  we  should  ask  what  service 
ancient  civilizations,  generally  speaking,  performed  for  the 
cause  of  human  progress,  the  answer  would  be,  They  suc- 
ceeded in  forcing  external  submission  to  intelligence  embodied 
in  the  form  of  laws,  with  fear  of  punishment  attached.  These 
laws  neither  did  nor  could  accomplish  submission  of  the  will 
or  the  affections,  still  less  could  they  command  the  love  of 
the  intellect.  Nevertheless,  they  accomplished  a  most  neces- 
sary and  a  most  important  work.  Until  men  have  learned  out- 
ward conformity  in  action  to  law,  they  are  not  capable  of  any 
higher  spiritual  attainment.  Fear  is  the  first  attitude  assumed 
by  the  animal  toward  the  spiritual.  The  transition  from  this 
attitude  to  a  higher  was  marked  by  the  rise  of  Christianity. 
The  great  movement  so  called  was,  of  course,  preceded  by  a 
considerable  period  of  preparation,  especially  among  the 
Hebrews  and  the  Greeks. 

Among  the  former,  mere  submission  of  outward  action 
gradually  gave  place  to  submission  of  the  affections,  and  men 
learned  to  love  the  divine.  Among  the  latter,  outward  submis- 
sion tended  to  give  place  to  insight,  that  is,  to  pure  piety  of 
the  intellect.  Had  any  man  appeared  about  the  beginning  of 
our  era,  capable  of  placing  himself  at  once  at  the  advanced 
standpoint  of  the  Hebrew  and  the  advanced  standpoint  of 
the  Greek,  and  had  he  been  able  to  impose  his  doctrine  upon 
the  world,  the  result  might  have  been  the  spread  of  true 
intellectual  piety,  in  its  wide  triple  sense  of  insight,  love,  and 
freedom.  Unfortunately,  Jesus,  the  man  who  did  succeed  in 
imposing  himself  upon  the  world,  and  who  well  deserved  to 
succeed,  could  place  himself  at  only  one  of  these  two  stand- 
points—  that  of  the  Hebrew.  He  taught  men  to  love  the 
divine  as  manifested  in  his  own  person.  In  other  words,  he 
taught  them  to  submit  the  affectional  part  of  their  nature  to 
the  divine,  and  this  was  a  step  of  incalculable  importance,  a 
step  which  replaced  fear  by  love.    What  he  failed  to  do  was 


INTELLECTUAL  PIETY  1 85 

to  make  men  submit  their  pure  intelligence  to  the  divine,  in 
the  only  way  in  which  intelligence  is  justified  in  submitting 
itself,  that  is,  through  clear  insight.  As  far  as  their  affec- 
tions were  concerned  the  Christians  were  free ;  they  followed 
the  good,  the  divine,  because  they  loved  it  in  one  splendid 
manifestation.  But  they  were  not  altogether  free ;  they  were 
still  subject  to  authority  with  a  part  of  their  nature,  namely, 
with  the  pure  intelligence.  Nothing  can  free  the  intelligence 
and  enable  it  to  act  with  perfect  liberty,  except  clear,  unwav- 
ering insight,  and  this  Christianity  did  not  give,  and  could 
not  give.  The  place  of  insight  was  taken  by  faith,  —  faith  in 
the  life  and  words  of  an  individual ;  and  this  life  and  these 
words  necessarily  became  authoritative,  and  had  to  be  embod- 
ied in  a  law-imposing  institution,  namely,  the  Church.  Just  as 
the  State  had  been,  and  .was,  an  institution  replacing  insight 
into  the  divine  and  affection  for  it,  in  order  through  authority 
to  secure  outward  conformity  of  action  ;  so  the  Church  was 
an  institution  replacing  insight  into  the  divine,  in  order  to 
secure  affection  for  it.  The  Church  was,  therefore,  an  insti- 
tution higher  than  the  State ;  it  represented  less  through 
authority,  and  made  possible  a  greater  degree  of  freedom, 
namely,  freedom  of  the  affections.  In  the  Church  men  acted 
and  lived  through  freeing  love,  instead  of  through  slavish  fear. 
But  after  all,  it  was  an  authoritative  institution,  and,  in  so  far, 
an  imperfect  one.  In  spite  of  this  imperfection,  if  she  had 
remained  true  to  herself  and  her  inmost  principles,  she  ought 
to  have  been  able  to  impose  herself  upon  the  State  and  to 
absorb  it,  as  a  higher  institution  ought  always  to  absorb  a 
lower.  Indeed,  in  one  period  of  her  history,  the  Church  came 
very  near  to  this,  and  it  was  only  her  infidelity  to  herself  that 
prevented  her  from  doing  so  altogether.  If,  through  the  lives 
of  her  members,  or  even  of  her  priests,  nay,  even  of  her  head, 
the  Pope,  she  could  have  exacted  that  divine  love  which  Jesus 
had  hoped  that  his  representatives,  imbued  with  his  righteous- 
ness, might  at  all  times  exact,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 


1 86  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

kingdoms  of  this  world  would  have  become  the  kingdom  of 
Christ.  We  all  know  how  far  she  failed  in  this  respect.  At 
the  very  time  when  the  kingdoms  of  the  civilized  world  seemed 
almost  within  her  reach,  she  was  represented  in  her  supreme 
dignity  by  several  men,  whom  a  woman,  afterwards  canonized 
by  the  Church,  —  and  well  deserving  canonization,  if  ever 
woman  did, — was  constrained  to  speak  of  as  demons  incarnate, 
daemones  incarnati. 

That  the  divine,  when  so  represented,  should  call  forth 
man's  affections  and  secure  the  submission  of  the  State  was 
utterly  impossible ;  and  so  Church  and  State,  instead  of  being 
absorbed  into  one  great  institution,  setting  man's  affectional 
nature  free,  and  gradually  working  toward  the  liberation  of 
his  intellectual  nature  through  pure  insight,  fell  gradually 
back  into  the  position  of  the  ancient  states,  and,  through 
material  force  (the  use  of  which  Jesus  had  actually  forbidden), 
as  well  as  by  spiritual  threats  conceived  in  the  spirit  of  exclu- 
siveness,  hatred,  and  tyranny,  flung  men  back  into  the  condi- 
tion of  slaves,  living  and  acting  in  fear.  However  much  we 
may  blame  the  Church  —  and  she  deserves  great  blame  for 
relapsing  into  this  pagan  condition  —  we  must  never  forget 
that  her  errors  were  in  a  certain  sense  due  to  her  very  consti- 
tution, and  the  imperfection  of  the  doctrine  of  Jesus  upon 
which  she  was  originally  founded.  Jesus  and  his  immediate 
followers  had  called  for  faith,  instead  of  for  insight,  and  faith 
had,  of  absolute  necessity,  to  result  in  a  dogmatic  system  ; 
for  articles  of  faith  must  be  expressed  as  dogmas,  if  expressed 
at  all.  What  is  more  important,  however,  is,  that  dogmas, 
from  their  very  nature,  could  not  defend  themselves  rationally, 
inasmuch  as  they  were  not  based  upon  intellectual  insight, 
but  upon  authority.  If  they  defended  themselves  at  all,  they 
had  to  do  so  by  material  force. 

It  is  true  that  on  more  than  one  occasion  the  Church 
attempted  to  base  her  dogmas  upon  intellectual  insight,  first 
in  the  second,  third,  fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  through  the 


INTELLECTUAL  PIETY  187 

ponderous  writings  of  the  so-called  fathers  of  the  Church,  of 
whom  the  most  important  and  able  was  St.  Augustine ;  again 
in  the  twelfth  and  following  centuries  through  the  efforts  of 
the  schoolmen  so-called.  The  former,  the  Church  Fathers, 
employed  for  their  purposes  the  philosophy  of  Plato  mostly ; 
the  latter,  the  schoolmen,  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle.  But 
on  each  occasion  the  attempt  failed,  and  failed  signally,  for 
the  very  good  and  very  inspiring  reason  that  the  dogmas  were 
false,  and  nothing  that  is  false  can  ever  be  based  upon  intel- 
lectual insight.  Fortunately  it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  things 
that  any  institution  existing  to  exercise  authority  can  be  eter- 
nal ;  for,  in  the  long  run,  man  must  attain  his  true  nature,  which 
is  absolute  freedom,  intellectual  as  well  as  other. 

The  long  struggle  which  the  Church  carried  on  against  the 
State,  in  so  far  as  it  was  in  any  degree  representative,  was  a 
struggle  of  love  and  duty  against  fear  and  law.  In  this  struggle, 
the  Church,  as  an  institution,  may  be  said  to  have  succumbed, 
and,  indeed  at  the  Protestant  Reformation,  the  Church  was 
expressly  made  subject  to  the  temporal  ruler;  but,  after  all,  the 
Church  did  impart  a  great  deal  of  her  spirit  to  civil  institutions, 
so  that  in  our  day  a  very  large  number  of  men  and  women,  who 
care  nothing  whatever  for  the  Church,  live  and  act  from  love 
and  cheerfully  accepted  duty,  and  in  no  degree  from  fear. 

The  Church,  as  I  have  said,  was,  from  the  very  defect  in  the 
nature  of  her  fundamental  principle,  necessarily  an  authorita- 
tive institution,  as  far  as  the  intellect  was  concerned.  She 
put  faith  and  dogma  in  the  place  of  insight  and  clear  convic- 
tion, and,  when  she  began  to  degenerate,  actually  set  her  face 
against  the  latter,  and  discouraged  free  inquiry  and  free 
thought,  as  hostile  to  piety  and  religion.  They  were,  indeed, 
hostile  to  piety,  as  she  conceived  it,  and  this  the  event  has 
proved.  As  she  conceived  it,  piety  —  and  piety,  in  the  last 
result,  always  means  intellectual  piety  —  meant  the  unques- 
tioning submission  of  the  intellect  to  the  authority  of  dogma. 
There  can  be  no  question  that  there  was  a  time  when  this 


1 88  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

was  real  piety,  the  very  best  thing  that  men  could  do.  There 
was  a  time  when  the  dogmas  of  the  church  were  higher  than 
the  loftiest  insights  of  even  the  best  of  living  men,  and  when 
this  is  the  case,  and  men  can  in  any  way  be  convinced  that  it 
is  the  case,  then  submission  becomes  intellectual  piety.  Very 
few  people,  comparatively  speaking,  have  ever  worked  out  the 
proof  that  the  earth  moves  round  the  sun  ;  nevertheless,  we 
should  at  the  present  day  regard  it  as  intellectual  impiety  and 
arrogance  for  any  one  who  had  not  examined  the  proof,  to 
question  the  fact. 

But  the  reign  of  faith  is  of  necessity  the  reign  of  author- 
ity. Faith  is  authoritative,  or  it  is  nothing.  That  this  is  true, 
any  one  who  thinks  clearly,  by  simple  reasoning,  can  easily 
see.  But  it  has  also  been  demonstrated  by  experience.  The 
Church  has  lost  power  as  an  institution,  exactly  in  proportion 
as  she  has  ceased  to  be  authoritative.  Let  us  now  ask  our- 
selves, What  is  the  effect  of  authority  in  matters  of  intellect, 
and  especially  in  the  loftiest  matters  with  which  the  intellect 
can  deal?  Simply  this,  to  paralyze  the  intellect  and  render 
men  indifferent  to  its  dictates.  This,  of  course,  would  not  be 
felt,  and,  indeed,  would  not  be  prejudicial,  so  long  as  the 
dogmas  of  faith  were  nearer  the  truth  than  the  insights  of 
intellect ;  but,  as  soon  as  the  intellect  arrives  at  higher  insights 
than  the  dogmas  contain,  then  any  attempt  to  confine  the 
intellect  within  the  limits  of  dogma  can  result  in  only  one  of 
two  things,  —  paralysis  of  the  intellect,  or  rebellion  on  the 
part  of  the  intellect  and  an  open  hostility  to  dogma  and  the 
entire  institution  based  upon  it. 

Now  both  of  these  results  have  been  actualized  in  the  last 
three  hundred  years,  and  exist  in  a  very  pronounced  state  at 
the  present  moment.  On  the  one  hand,  we  have  a  very 
large  number  of  people  who,  utterly  incapable  of  profound 
thought,  and  unaided  even  by  dogma,  nevertheless,  in  a 
blind  and  imbecile  way,  cling  to  dogma,  and  lead  superficial, 
conventional,  and  altogether  pitiable  lives.    This  is  the  case 


INTELLECTUAL  PIETY  1 89 

with  by  far  the  majority  of  formal  churchgoers,  many  of 
whom  are  sunk  so  deep  in  intellectual  impiety  and  death,  that  it 
seems  as  if  even  the  last  trumpet  would  not  rouse  them.  On. 
the  other  hand,  we  have  at  the  present  day  a  large  number  of 
persons,  who,  rebelling  openly  against  dogma,  and  the  Church 
based  thereon,  reject  even  the  good  that  there  is  in  the 
Church,  and  fall  back  into  an  unsettled,  hopeless  condition,  in 
which  they  vainly  grope  about  for  a  clear  principle  of  action. 
They  have  rejected  authority,  but  have  not  attained  insight ; 
and  so  they  either  wander  about  in  a  sort  of  grim  uncer- 
tainty, which  they  call  agnosticism ;  or  else  adopt,  as  a  prin- 
ciple of  action,  some  abstract  formula  borrowed  from  the  old 
religion  without  acknowledgment,  and  declared  to  have  been 
found  among  the  inmost  instincts  of  the  heart.  When  author- 
ity and  intellect  fail,  the  heart  is  always  made  to  do  duty,  and, 
in  consequence,  invested  with  a  kind  of  mysterious  sanctity,  as 
if  its  blind  dictates  were  necessarily  infallible  oracles.  Among 
these  men  too  we  find  great  impiety  of  intellect. 

Before  taking  up  our  second  question  —  How  may  the  pre- 
vailing impiety  of  intellect  be  remedied  —  let  me  recapitulate, 
in  a  few  words,  the  answer  to  the  first.  The  now  prevalent 
impiety  of  intellect  is  due  to  two  main  causes  :  (1)  the  natural 
impiety  of  the  human  heart,  its  primitive  animality,  which, 
when  it  resists  intelligence,  becomes  original  sin ;  (2)  to  the 
transition  now  going  on  from  faith  or  authority  in  matters 
intellectual  to  clear  insight  and  perfect  freedom.  The  former 
of  these  causes  is  potent  in  almost  every  individual,  produc- 
ing selfishness  and  blindness ;  the  latter  is  potent  in  all  our 
social  institutions,  causing  confusion  of  the  most  threatening 
kind,  ranging  class  against  class,  and  bidding  fair,  in  the  form 
of  nihilism  and  anarchism,  to  annihilate  the  civilizing  efforts 
of  many  centuries. 

Now  it  is  a  strange  fact,  and  one  which  every  man  who  is 
not  a  mere  play  actor,  unable  to  discern  the  signs  of  the 
time,  sought  to  weigh  carefully,  that  the  first  effects  of  the 


190  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

birth  of  a  new  truth  in  the  world  often  take  the  form  of 
gigantic  courses  of  heartless  and  hideous  crime.  Nihilism 
and  anarchism  are  cases  in  point.  The  hideous  crimes  perpe- 
trated by  their  votaries  are  really  performed  in  obedience  to 
a  true  principle ;  but  the  principle  is  by  these  votaries  so 
imperfectly  and  incorrectly  grasped,  that  it  becomes  a  curse, 
instead  of  a  blessing,  and  rouses  prejudices  most  prejudicial 
to  itself.  What  nihilists  and  anarchists  are  sinning  for  is 
freedom,  and  freedom,  when  properly  comprehended,  is  the 
highest  possible  of  blessings  ;  but  to  these  men  it  is  a  mere 
word,  or  at  best  a  synonym  for  utter  impiety.  Thus,  without 
in  the  smallest  degree  palliating  the  acts  of  these  men,  or 
failing  on  every  possible  occasion  to  express  our  righteous 
horror  of  them,  we  need  not  fail  to  recognize  that  the  end 
which  they  so  foolishly  and  criminally  seek  to  attain  is  the 
true  end  of  all  noble  human  endeavor.  For  just  as  Christi- 
anity rose  above  ancient  paganism  and  overthrew  its  institu- 
tions, in  order  that  men's  lives  might  be  freed  from  the 
authority  of  fear  and  be  guided  by  love,  so  at  the  present 
day  pure  intelligence,  combining  in  itself  insight,  aspiring 
love,  and  freedom,  is  slowly  rising  above  Christianity  even, 
and  seeking  to  free  men's  souls  from  the  authority  of  faith  and 
dogma,  so  lifting  them  into  absolute  freedom.  The  world's 
battle  of  progress  is  now  fought  in  the  name  of  perfect  intel- 
lectual piety,  which  alone  can  make  men  free  and  blessed. 

In  the  struggle,  no  doubt,  many  of  our  existing  institutions 
must  go  down ;  indeed,  in  the  end,  they  must  all  go  down,  in 
so  far  as  they  are  in  any  way  authoritative ;  for  among  men 
intellectually  pious  authority  has  no  place  or  power.  We 
ought  always  to  remember  that  the  amount  of  authority 
requiring  to  be  exercised  among  a  people  is  always  in  exact 
inverse  ratio  to  its  spiritual  advancement,  its  intellectual 
piety.  Among  the  intellectually  pious  all  authority  resolves 
itself  into  insight  —  insight  into  the  ultimate  laws  of  absolute 
being,  or,  as  theologians  awkwardly  say,  into  the  will  of  God. 


INTELLECTUAL  PIETY  19 1 

We  are  now  ready  to  answer  our  second  question,  How 
can  intellectual  piety  be  realized  on  the  earth,  and  intellectual 
impiety  be  made  to  cease  ? 

We  may  answer  this  question  in  a  preliminary  sort  of  way 
by  saying,  By  teaching  men  to  disregard  the  blind  prompt- 
ings and  blinding  habits  of  their  animal  nature,  and  to  see 
things  as  they  are  objectively  in  themselves,  estimating  each 
according  to  its  true  value,  which  will  be  at  once  absolute 
and  relative.  We  may  express  this  otherwise,  thus,  By  culti- 
vating in  every  man  pure  intelligence  and  pure  divine  love, 
and  so  strengthening  these  that  they  shall  without  difficulty 
subject  and  rule  animality  and  selfishness.  We  may  express 
it  in  a  third  and  very  brief  way,  thus,  By  turning  every  man 
and  woman  into  a  philosopher,  and  a  hero  or  heroine. 

You  will  doubtless  say  to  me :  It  will  be  a  long  time 
before  we  succeed  in  doing  that !  Your  notion  is  Utopian, 
visionary,  wild  in  the  last  degree !  I  am  only  too  well  aware 
that  it  will  take  a  long  time  to  make  men  profound  thinkers 
and  heroes,  and  if  I  thought  otherwise,  I  should  most  certainly 
deserve  all  the  epithets  you  might  be  inclined  to  heap  upon 
me.  In  saying  what  I  have  said,  I  have  only  sought  to  point 
out  the  ultimate  weal  toward  which  we  must  certainly  move, 
if  we  are  to  progress  at  all,  —  the  goal  of  human  perfection, 
which  is  perfect  insight,  perfect  love,  perfect  freedom.  The 
failure  to  see  that  this  is  man's  goal  leads  to  very  many  evils, 
evils  of  the  most  crying  kind,  of  which  most  people  are  but 
little  aware.  Let  me  name  two  of  the  saddest  and  most  hurt- 
ful of  these. 

The  first  relates  to  the  theory  of  education  and  takes  this 
form,  that  in  educating  a  child  we  should  do  everything  in 
our  power  to  let  it  follow  its  natural  inclinations.  This  is 
almost  an  axiom  in  American  education  —  at  least  I  know  it 
is  so  in  several  parts  of  the  country  where  it  has  been  my  lot 
to  teach.  This  idea  I  believe  to  be  in  the  highest  degree  false 
and  dangerous.    One  easily  understands  how  it  arose  —  from 


1 92  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

a  reaction  against  the  brutal,  bullying  systems  of  education 
which  were  formerly  prevalent  here,  and  are  so  still  in  Eng- 
land and  several  other  countries.  One  consequently  can 
excuse  it  to  some  extent.  Nevertheless,  this  does  not  alter 
its  character,  which  is  in  the  highest  degree  pernicious.  If 
by  the  natural  inclinations  or  nature  of  the  child  we  mean 
the  animal  nature  with  which  it  comes  into  the  world,  noth- 
ing can  be  more  untrue  than  that  we  ought  to  indulge  and 
cultivate  this  nature.  Indeed,  the  very  opposite  is  true.  This 
nature  ought  to  be  completely  subjected  and  subordinated  to 
that  higher  nature  which  is  only  latent  in  the  child  at  its 
birth  and  for  a  long  time  afterwards,  the  intelligent  and  moral 
nature. 

It  is  true  that  a  child's  natural  instincts  and  tendencies 
ought  to  be  regarded  to  this  extent,  —  that  they  ought  to  be 
carefully  studied,  in  order  that  it  may  be  taught  to  subordi- 
nate them,  and  rise  above  them  into  the  region  of  pure 
intelligence  and  complete  freedom.  The  course  of  education 
for  every  child  ought  to  be,  as  far  as  is  possible,  a  copy  of 
the  education  which  the  race  has  undergone,  and  is  under- 
going, just  as  each  child  is  a  copy  and  epitome  of  the  whole 
development  of  the  race  in  all  other  respects.  First  of  all, 
the  child  ought  to  be  taught  in  its  outward  acts  to  respect 
authority  blindly,  and,  if  need  be  —  mark  you,  I  say,  if  need 
be  —  even  through  fear.  Then  it  ought  to  be  taught  to  act 
from  loving  confidence  and  to  this  end  a  model  worthy  of 
love  and  confidence  ought  to  be  continually  kept  before  it,  as 
parent,  nurse,  or  teacher,  while  at  the  same  time  it  is  made  to 
live  in  a  world  of  art,  —  not  merely  of  graphic  and  plastic  art, 
but  of  art  in  the  broadest  sense,  —  in  a  world  of  the  lovable. 
Last  of  all,  at  the  proper  time,  the  child,  now  grown  a  young 
man  or  a  young  woman,  must  be  taught  to  act  from  simple 
insight,  to  shape  its  actions  in  accordance  with  the  recognized 
worth  of  things,  without  any  regard  to  what  its  own  animal 
inclinations,  its  own  personal  desires  and  ambitions,  may  be. 


INTELLECTUAL  PIETY  193 

But  in  order  to  be  able  to  act  in  this  way,  it  must  labor  and 
study  to  know  the  true  worth  and  meaning  of  things,  to  see 
them  in  their  true  relations,  to  be,  in  one  word,  a  lover  of 
wisdom,  a  philosopher. 

Now,  the  second  of  the  evils  which  arise  from  the  failure 
to  recognize  man's  true  destiny  is  just  this,  —  a  contemptuous 
denial  that  every  man  and  woman  ought  to  be  a  philosopher. 
So  much  does  the  old  habit  of  authority  and  convention  in 
matters  of  intelligence  and  morals  still  prevail,  so  much  are 
men  still  the  slaves  of  these,  that  philosophy,  which  alone  can 
make  men  free,  is  still  looked  upon  with  suspicion,  and  ill- 
concealed  contempt.  One  continually  hears  :  "  But  you  can't 
expect  every  man  to  be  a  philosopher !  It  takes  a  long  time 
to  learn  philosophy,  and  people  generally  have  other  things  to 
attend  to.  They  must  sow  and  reap,  buy  and  sell,  eat  and 
drink,  and  they  must  have  a  good  time.  Philosophy  is  dull, 
solemn  business."  The  implication,  of  course,  is,  that  sowing 
and  reaping,  buying  and  selling,  and  so  on,  are  more  impor- 
tant things  than  philosophy,  and  this,  indeed,  is  what  the 
world  of  our  time  practically  believes. 

The  general  belief  is  that  the  end  of  life  is  to  acquire 
material  wealth  and  have  a  "good  time,"  which  means  to  sat- 
isfy the  natural  inclinations,  which  our  education  accordingly 
fosters  and  pampers.  I  say  this  is  the  result  of  a  failure  to 
recognize  that  the  aim  of  man's  life  is  man's  perfection,  and 
that  perfection  consists  in  perfect  insight,  perfect  love,  and 
perfect  freedom.  As  soon  as  men  see  this  clearly  they  will 
no  longer  look  down  upon  philosophy,  which  is  but  another 
name  for  loving  insight,  one  of  the  essential  elements  in 
human  perfection.  To  despise  philosophy  is  to  despise  spirit- 
ual perfection,  for  clear  knowledge  is  one  of  the  elements  of 
that  perfection. 

There  is  no  duty  more  incumbent  upon  any  human  being 
than  to  know ;  unless  it  be  the  duty  of  loving  with  divine  love 
everything  known,  in  proportion  to  its  worth,  and  sternly 


i94  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

refusing  to  be  guided  by  personal  feelings  and  inclinations. 
A  man  or  a  woman  who  is  not  a  profound  thinker,  seeing  the 
things  of  the  world  in  their  true  ideal  proportions  and  acting 
accordingly,  is  a  mere  dependent,  half-enslaved  creature, 
whatever  amount  of  so-called  culture,  refinement,  and  kindli- 
ness he  or  she  may  have.  Such  a  person  is  still  a  slave  to 
authority  and  convention,  a  mere  play  actor  in  life,  bound  to 
play  a  traditional,  unreal  part,  without  any  of  the  glorious 
liberty  of  the  children  of  God,  of  them  who  see  the  Divine 
face  to  face,  and,  in  the  light  thereof,  all  things  in  their 
true  worth. 

The  only  reason  why  it  is  necessary  to  sow  and  reap,  to  buy 
and  sell,  and,  indeed,  to  live  at  all  in  this  world,  is  that  the 
spirit  may  be  enabled  to  rise  to  the  heights  of  conscious 
insight,  love,  and  freedom.  If  this  end  is  missed  all  is  in  vain. 
A  mere  blameless,  legally  correct  life  will  save  no  man. 
There  is  no  unjust  God,  who  will  pick  us  up  out  of  our 
cowardly,  ignorant,  narrow,  prejudiced,  slavish  condition,  and 
all  at  once  pour  upon  us  an  ocean  of  insight,  love,  and  free- 
dom, without  any  effort  on  our  part.  The  true  God  of  philos- 
ophy, the  God  of  the  religion  of  the  future,  the  just  God, 
gives  to  each  man  precisely  what  with  his  own  efforts  he  has 
righteously  won,  neither  more  nor  less.  The  man  who  asks 
for  more  is  a  miserable  dependant,  sycophant,  and  beggar ; 
the  man  who  is  content  with  less  is  a  fool. 

The  upshot  of  the  whole  matter  is,  that  knowledge  and 
clear  insight,  of  the  intellectual,  worth-estimating  kind,  is 
essential  to  all  true  well-being  in  this  world.  It  is  the  want 
of  intellectual  insight  into  the  true  worth  and  meaning  of  life 
and  its  institutions  that  is  the  cause  of  well-nigh  all  the 
misery,  sin,  and  confusion  that  are  now  cursing  the  world. 
The  mass  of  men  live  on  blindly,  not  knowing  the  meaning 
of  the  things  that  are  most  close  to  them,  and  thoughtlessly 
giving  countenance  to  institutions  and  practices  that  crush 
out  the  life  of  the  spirit.    Not  one  in  every  fifty  ever  asks 


INTELLECTUAL  PIETY  I 95 

himself  whether  our  political  and  social  institutions,  our 
state,  our  industry,  our  education,  are  founded  on  truth  and 
right,  or  upon  lies  and  convention-supported  wrong. 

And  yet  this  is  one  of  the  first  duties  of  every  man.  How 
much  human  energy  and  spiritual  force  are  being  thrown 
away  and  wasted  in  doing  things  that  ought  never  to  be  done 
at  all,  the  result  of  which  clogs  and  binds  in  slavery  the 
spirit!  How  much  industry,  ministering  to  pomp  and  pride 
and  self-indulgence,  is  worse  than  useless !  How  much 
charity  is  worse  than  wasted,  making  human  beings  puling 
dependents,  instead  of  beings  rejoicing  in  divine  liberty ! 
How  much  education  is  absolutely  pernicious,  pampering  the 
animal  instincts  and  inclinations,  and  helping  to  sink  the  soul 
in  matter,  to  enthrall  it,  and  to  hide  from  it  the  vision  of  God  ! 
How  much  precious  time  is  wasted  in  frivolous  reading  of  a 
sickly,  sense-pampering  kind,  —  time  that  might  well  be 
employed  in  obtaining  intellectual  insight,  and  in  learning  to 
love  the  things  of  the  universe  as  they  deserve !  Amongst 
the  greatest  curses  of  our  time,  the  greatest  barriers  to  spirit- 
ual insight  and  human  happiness,  are  misdirected  education, 
and  frivolous  reading,  and  devotion  to  frivolous  and  meaning- 
less art.  Before  we  can  hope  to  advance  in  righteousness  and 
happiness  we  must  reform  our  education  from  the  foundation 
up,  in  accordance  with  insight  into  the  true,  eternal  nature  of 
the  spirit ;  we  must  make  it  a  means  for  spiritual  perfection, 
and  not  a  means  for  acquiring  material  wealth  with  which  to 
glut  the  senses. 

At  the  same  time  those  of  us  who  have  already  reached 
manhood  and  womanhood  must  seek  to  undo  the  effects  of 
our  vicious  early  education,  and  strive  with  all  our  might,  by 
labor  and  study  incessant,  to  rise  to  divine  insight,  love,  and 
freedom.  We  must  learn  to  know  the  universe  we  live  in,  in 
order  that  we  may  be  able  to  live  in  accordance  with  its  nature 
and  being.  We  must  give  up  all  frivolous  reading,  all  devo- 
tion to  frivolous  art,  and  consecrate  our  time  to  the  study  of 


196  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

the  great  thinkers  in  all  departments  of  human  knowledge, 
physical  and  spiritual,  and  of  the  great  artists,  —  those  who 
have  embodied  in  their  works  the  truths  of  the  eternal. 
What  shall  we  say  of  people  who  devote  their  time  to  reading 
novels  written  by  miserable,  ignorant  scribblers  —  many  of 
them  young,  uneducated,  and  inexperienced  —  and  who  have 
hardly  read  a  line  of  Homer  or  Sophocles  or  Dante,  or  Shake- 
speare or  Goethe,  or  even  of  Wordsworth  and  Tennyson,  who 
would  laugh  at  the  notion  of  reading  and  studying  Plato  or 
Aristotle,  or  Thomas  Aquinas,  or  Bruno,  or  Kant,  or  Rosmini  ? 
Are  they  not  worse  than  the  merest  idiots,  feeding  prodigal- 
like upon  swinish  garbage,  when  they  might  be  in  their 
father's  house,  enjoying  their  portion  of  humanity's  spiritual 
birthright  ?  I  know  of  few  things  more  utterly  sickening  and 
contemptible  than  the  self-satisfied  smile  of  Philistine  superi- 
ority with  which  many  persons  tell  me,  "  I  am  not  a  philos- 
opher." It  means  simply  this,  I  am  a  stupid,  low,  grovelling 
fool,  and  I  am  proud  of  it ! 

But  it  is  of  no  use  to  rail  at  the  ill.  Let  us  rather,  all  of 
us,  from  this  day  forward,  resolve  to  be  intellectually  pious, 
to  bend  all  our  energies  to  the  comprehension  of  that  world, 
physical  and  spiritual,  which  is  our  larger  selves,  through  Sci- 
ence, Philosophy,  Art;  and  to  exercise  our  souls  in  the  cor- 
rect loving  of  all  things  in  proportion  to  their  intrinsic  worth. 
And  inasmuch  as  art  and  science  and  philosophy  are  long, 
and  the  world-self  which  we  have  to  comprehend  is  infinite, 
let  us,  like  immortal  spirits,  combine  to  give  each  the  benefit 
of  the  labor  of  all. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
FAITH  AS  A  FACULTY  OF  THE  HUMAN   MIND1 

To  the  question,  How  "does  the  human  mind  attain  to  the 
knowledge  of  God  ?  two  main  answers  have  been  given  :  (i) 
through  the  natural  faculties  of  the  mind,  (2)  through  a  super- 
natural revelation.  Catholic  Christianity,  as  reflected  for 
example  in  the  pages  of  Thomas  Aquinas,  united  these  two 
answers,  and  maintained  that,  while  the  human  faculties  are 
capable  of  discovering  that  God  is,  a  revelation  is  needed  to 
know  what  God  is,  and  how  he  is  related  to  human  beings.  It 
held,  moreover,  that  natural  knowledge  is  a  condition  of  super- 
natural knowledge,  and  that  the  latter  is  the  material  of  faith. 

Since  the  days  of  Kant,  all  this  has  been  changed.  That 
philosopher  thought  he  had  proved  —  and  the  world,  on  the 
whole,  has  agreed  with  him  —  that  man's  knowledge  of  actu- 
ality extends  only  to  sense  experience,  since  the  forms  of  his 
mind  have  reference  and  applicability  only  to  these.  When 
he  attempts  to  apply  them  in  any  other  region,  they  find 
themselves  without  any  contact,  and  when  that  is  the  case, 
they  help  him  to  no  truth.  Now,  since,  according  to  Kant, 
God  is  not  an  object  of  sense  experience,  man's  faculties  do 
not  enable  him  to  say  there  is  any  such  being,  or,  indeed, 
anything  supernatural  at  all.  In  truth,  Kant  believed  himself 
to  have  conclusively  demonstrated  that  man  can  attain  to  no 
knowledge  of  any  metaphysical  reality.  His  reason,  indeed, 
has  to  postulate  God  in  order  to  make  the  world  appear 
rational;  but  whether  any  reality  corresponds  to  this  postu- 
late, it  is  impossible  to  say. 

1  A  paper  read  by  Mr.  Davidson  at  a  Philosophical  Convention  held  at 
Chicago. 

197 


198  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

If  Kant  be  right  in  maintaining  that  the  categories  of  the 
mind  are  mere  forms  which  are  utterly  useless  without  a  con- 
tent derived  from  experience,  —  and  this  seems  to  be  really 
the  case,  —  it  follows  directly  that,  if  we  are  to  know  God  at 
all,  it  must  be  through  some  sort  of  experience.  This  experi- 
ence may  be  either  direct  or  indirect,  that  is,  either  inwardly 
cognized,  or  outwardly  revealed.  In  the  former  case  it  will 
produce  science  and  conviction  ;  in  the  latter,  at  best,  belief 
and  persuasion.  Furthermore,  an  external  revelation  of  God 
can  have  no  meaning  for  any  one  who  has  no  experience  cor- 
responding to  the  terms  in  which  that  revelation  is  couched. 
Hence  it  follows,  in  the  last  resort,  that  we  can  have  no 
knowledge  of  God  without  experience,  and  that  ofja  personal 
sort.  The  question,  then,  whether  we  know  God,  resolves 
itself  into  the  question  whether  we  have  any  direct  experience 
of  God. 

But  here  we  must  be  careful  not  to  fall  into  confusion.  In 
saying  that,  if  we  are  to  know  God,  we  must  have  some  per- 
sonal experience  of  him,  I  do  not  mean  that  the  whole  con- 
tent and  system  of  this  knowledge  must  be  of  an  individual 
sort.  If  it  were,  it  would  be  mere  mysticism  of  the  bad  kind, 
a  series  of  individual  impressions,  indistinguishable  from  hal- 
lucinations, and  utterly  irreducible  to  true  knowledge.  True 
knowledge  is  the  result  of  universal  human  experience,  built 
up  out  of  combined  human  experience  by  many  successive 
generations.  This  is  eminently  true  of  our  knowledge  of  the 
outward  material  world.  If  each  individual  had  to  derive  his 
knowledge  of  that  from  his  own  experience,  his  world  would 
be  of  the  meagerest  sort,  and  it  is  otherwise  only  because  he 
adds  to  his  own  experience  that  of  the  race,  as  organized  in 
language,  science,  art,  and  philosophy.  Granting,  then,  that 
man  has  an  experience  of  God,  and  that  out  of  this  experience 
he  can  frame  and  systematize  a  knowledge  of  God,  we  shall 
expect  to  find  that  this  knowledge  is  universal,  and  that  each 
individual,  if  he  is  to  arrive  at  a  knowledge  of  God,  must 


FAITH  AS  A  FACULTY  1 99 

supplement  his  own  experience  by  that  of  the  race.  But  the 
God  experience  of  the  race  is  organized  in  religious  institutions, 
religious  creeds,  and  sacred  books.  Hence  it  is  to  these  that 
the  individual  must  go  in  order  to  supplement  his  own  narrow 
experience.  Only  by  these  can  he  test  its  validity  and  assign 
its  place.  Without  the  experience  of  the  race,  his  own  could 
have  little  value ;  without  the  latter,  that  of  the  race  would 
have  no  value  at  all ;  for  we  may  fairly  and  justly  say  that 
that  of  the  race  is  valuable  to  him  only  in  so  far  as  it  enables 
him  to  interpret  his  own.  Mysticism  detached  from  scholasti- 
cism is  mere  dreaming ;  scholasticism  detached  from  mysticism 
is  empty  dialectics,  a  mere  playing  with  hollow  concepts. 

If,  then,  a  knowledge  of  God  involves  an  experience  of  God, 
it  is  clear  that  we  must  have  a  faculty  corresponding  to  and 
mediating  this  experience.  And  I  think  that  this  faculty  has 
long  been  recognized  and  named,  being  none  other  than  faith. 
I  am  quite  aware  that  the  term  "  faith  "  is  often  used  to  mean 
a  belief  in  certain  historic  facts,  whose  reality  cannot  be  proved 
by  the  ordinary  methods  of  history  ;  and  a  famous  scholar  has 
maintained  that  there  are  no  fewer  than  six  meanings  of  "  faith  " 
in  the  New  Testament  alone.  But  even  in  that  work  the  most 
common  and  vital  meaning  of  "faith  "  makes  it  the  faculty  of 
the  mind  which  grasps  the  substance  and  order  of  that  invisi- 
ble world  in  which  lie  the  grounds  of  all  our  hope.  And  in 
this  sense  exclusively  I  shall  use  it  in  this  paper.  I  will  treat 
it  as  a  faculty  of  the  human  soul,  and  ask  what  it  reveals  and 
what  it  commands. 

But  here  at  the  very  outset  I  am  arrested  by  the  prior 
question,  Is  there  any  such  faculty  ?  Kant,  as  we  have  seen, 
assumes  that  there  is  not,  and  all  the  conclusions  of  his  phil- 
osophy, as  well  as  of  most  other  philosophy  since  his  time, 
are  deeply  influenced  by  this  assumption.  Nevertheless  it  is 
one  that  stands  at  direct  variance  with  the  convictions  of  the 
race,  into  whose  consciousness  there  enters  the  thought  of  an 
invisible  world.    In  refusing  to  acknowledge  the  faculty  of 


200  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

faith,  therefore,  we  are  setting  aside,  as  unreal,  one  half  of  the 
content  of  the  human  race  —  consciousness  —  as  a  mere  illu- 
sion to  which  nothing  in  reality  can  be  shown  to  correspond. 
We  say,  in  effect,  that  it  is  a  mere  delusive  play  of  the  trans- 
forming and  recombining  imagination,  or  else  that  it  is  due  to 
a  misuse  of  the  empty  forms  of  thought,  the  latter  being 
Kant's  notion.  The  question  in  the  last  resort  is  one  of 
simple  fact,  and  its  answer  must  depend  on  an  appeal,  first  to 
the  individual  consciousness,  and  then,  for  confirmation,  to 
the  general  consciousness.  Have  we  then,  let  us  each  ask 
ourselves,  any  direct  experience  of  an  invisible  world  ?  Before 
attempting  to  answer  this  question,  let  us  be  sure  that  we 
clearly  understand  what  it  means,  and  not  rashly  say  No, 
because  we  have  no  experience  of  an  invisible  world  at  all  like 
our  experience  of  the  visible  world.  We  must,  indeed,  beware 
lest  we  take  the  question  to  mean,  Have  we  any  visible 
experience  of  the  invisible  world  ?  This,  of  course,  we  have 
not,  though  many  persons  have  claimed  such  experience  and 
many  more  look  for  such  experience  as  the  only  thing  that 
would  make  certain  the  existence  of  an  invisible  world. 

We  must  bear  in  mind  that  our  ordinary  experience  of  the 
material  world  consists  of  two  elements  which  are  readily 
enough  distinguishable,  though  not,  in  reality,  separable,  — 
an  element  made  up  of  sensations,  and  an  element  by  which 
these  sensations  are  combined  and  converted  into  an  objective, 
tangible  world  of  things.  If  either  of  these  elements  were 
different,  our  material  world  would  be  different  from  what  it 
is  ;  and  if  the  latter  element  were  entirely  different,  we  should 
no  longer  have  what  we  call  an  external  world  at  all,  —  a 
world  of  sensible  things  existing  in  time  and  space.  Now,  if 
we  are  to  have  any  experience  of  the  invisible  world,  we  must, 
indeed,  have  in  it  two  elements  analagous  to  these ;  but  there 
is  no  reason  why  they  should  be  similar  to  these  or  go  to 
make  up  a  similar  result.  Our  sensations  need  not  be  those 
of  color,  sound,  taste,  smell,  touch ;  and  the  things  we  form 


FAITH  AS  A  FACULTY  201 

out  of  them  need  not  be  bodies  visible  and  tangible  in  time 
and  space.  When,  therefore,  we  ask  whether  we  have  any 
experience  of  an  invisible  world  we  must  look  for  a  world  very 
different  from  the  visible  one. 

That  we  have  a  whole  range  of  feelings  entirely  different 
from  those  that  are  connected  with  our  senses,  there  can  be 
no  manner  of  doubt.  They  are  what  we  call  the  moral  feel- 
ingSj  —  feelings  aroused  in  us  by  actions  and  not  by  things. 
Such  feelings  are  those  of  justice,  injustice,  right,  wrong, 
remorse,  reverence,  duty,  etc.  It  is  likewise  beyond  doubt 
that  we  have  a  series  of  mental  forms  by  which  we  combine 
these  and  the  like  into  an  invisible  world  of  spiritual  person- 
alities. Kant  has  been  at  great  pains  to  show  us  just  what 
the  forms  are  which  enter  into  the  composition  of  our  mate- 
rial world,  namely,  the  forms  of  sense  and  understanding.  No 
one,  so  far  as  I  know,  has  undertaken  to  draw  out  a  scheme 
of  the  forms  which  enter  into  the  composition  of  the  spiritual 
world.  And  yet  the  task  does  not  seem  extremely  difficult. 
I  do  not,  indeed,  flatter  myself  that  I  can  give  such  a  scheme 
in  all  its  details  ;  but  I  think  I  can  point  out  the  way  in  which 
it  may  be  reached. 

It  is  a  familiar  fact  in  all  ethical  experience,  that  when  we 
do  certain  acts  we  are  filled  with  a  peculiar,  elevating,  inspir- 
ing joy ;  when  we  do  others  we  are  filled  with  a  strange, 
degrading,  paralyzing  pain,  or  remorse.  I  am  not  at  present 
concerned  in  determining  how  these  feelings  come  to  be  dis- 
tributed as  they  are  at  any  particular  time.  It  is  enough  for 
the  present  purpose  to  know  that  they  always  exist.  Further, 
I  am  not  concerned  in  showing  how  these  feelings  were  devel- 
oped and  what  lower'stages  they  have  passed  through  before 
showing  their  real  nature.  It  is  sufficient  to  know  that  nature. 
Now  these  feelings  of  joy  and  remorse  are  as  clearly  facts  of 
experience  as  the  sensations  of  color  or  sound  and  belong  as 
clearly  to  a  real  world.  The  question  is,  Have  we  any  means 
of  constructing  for  ourselves  the  world  to  which  they  belong  ? 


202  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

In  order  to  make  the  meaning  of  this  question  clearer,  let  us 
once  more  call  to  mind  that  the  material  world  which  we 
know  is  constructed  by  the  forms  of  sense  and  understanding 
out  of  certain  subjective  sensations.  Can  we,  then,  out  of 
those  moral  sensations,  by  any  forms  of  our  spiritual  being, 
construct  for  ourselves  a  moral  world  ?  That  such  a  world 
has  actually  been  constructed,  we  know.  In  that  world  is  one 
supreme  spiritual  being,  all  powerful,  all  loving,  all  holy, — a 
being  who  is  the  author  of  all  spiritual  beings,  whose  activity 
is  directed  toward  the  realization  in  themselves  of  his  perfec- 
tions. Is  this  world,  then,  a  real  world  ?  And  if  it  is  not,  can 
we  construct  a  real  moral  world,  or,  which  is  obviously  the 
same  thing,  a  real  metaphysical  world  ? 

That  such  a  world  has  been  constructed  and  has  taken 
outward  form  in  religious  institutions,  which  fill  the  larger 
half  of  human  life,  affords  at  least  a  presumption  of  the  reality 
of  this  world  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  test  for  the  validity  of 
any  world  which  the  individual  may  construct.  The  difficulty 
with  regard  to  the  moral  or  metaphysical  world  is  due,  in 
large  measure,  to  the  fact  that  there  does  not  seem  to  be  the 
same  concensus  in  regard  to  it  that  there  is  in  regard  to  the 
material  world.  There  is  a  general  belief  that  all  men  have 
a  common  material  world,  that  earth,  sky,  sun,  moon,  stars, 
mountains,  plants,  animals,  etc.,  are  the  same  for  everybody ; 
whereas  it  seems  clear  that  the  moral  world  is  different  for 
different  people,  and  some  seem  to  have  no  moral  world  at 
all.  The  conclusion  is  drawn  that  because  the  moral  world  is 
not  the  same  for  everybody,  there  cannot  be  any  real  moral 
world  at  all. 

Now  I  think  there  is  a  double  mistake  in  all  this  :  (i)  the 
material  world  is  not  so  much  the  same  for  everybody  as  it 
is  generally  believed  to  be,  and  (2)  the  moral  world  is  more 
the  same  for  everybody  than  it  is  believed  to  be.  But  while 
insisting  upon  this,  we  may  readily  admit  that  the  material 
world  is  more  the  same  for  everybody  than  the  moral  world 


FAITH  AS  A  FACULTY  203 

is,  and  the  ground  of  this  is  not  difficult  to  discover.  The 
material  world  is  to  a  large  extent  constructed  for  us  by  the 
spontaneous  action  of  our  powers,  free  will  hereby  entering 
into  it ;  and  these  powers,  just  because  they  are  spontaneous, 
are  much,  though  by  no  means  altogether,  the  same  for  all 
persons.  The  moral  world,  on  the  contrary,  being  a  world  of 
acts,  freely  and  consciously  performed  —  for  nothing  is  moral 
that  is  not  free  and  conscious  —  largely  depends  upon  the 
free  will  of  each  individual  for  its  character  and  content. 
A  person  who  performs  no  moral  acts  —  and  acts  here  include 
thoughts  —  has  no  moral  world.  In  spite  of  all  this,  however, 
there  is  a  fundamental  similarity  between  all  moral  worlds. 
Deduct  what  is  due  to  differences  of  culture,  language,  and 
conceptions,  and  there  remains  a  residue  which  is  much  the 
same  in  all  cases.  This  is  daily  becoming  clearer  and  clearer 
through  the  comparative  study  of  religions. 

I  have  said  that  certain  acts  bring  to  every  man  satisfac- 
tion, and  certain  other  acts  remorse.  By  acts  I  mean  here 
not  merely  the  changes  that  a  man  makes  in  the  world,  but 
I  include  also  all  the  motives  and  interests  involved  in  the 
acts.  Now  these  feelings  of  satisfaction  and  remorse  are  a 
content,  and  a  very  real  one,  and  it  cannot  be  said  that  mental 
forms  when  applied  to  them  are  empty.  It  may  be  true  that 
the  forms  of  sense  and  understanding  cannot  be  applied  to 
them,  and  indeed  it  is  true ;  but  it  still  remains  to  be  seen 
whether  the  mind  has  not  other  forms  in  which  to  apply  to 
them,  and  which  when  so  applied  give  us  a  moral  or  a  meta- 
physical world  of  reality.  In  the  feelings  of  remorse  and 
satisfaction,  when  we  come  to  examine  them  closely,  there 
is  involved  the  consciousness  of  authority,  which  we  cannot 
help  recognizing  as  rightful.  This  is,  if  we  may  so  speak,  the 
form  of  these  feelings,  — the  form  of  the  moral  sense,  — just 
as  space  and  time  are  forms  of  the  "outer"  and  "inner" 
senses.  We  can  no  more  get  rid  of  the  authority  which  these 
feelings  involve  than  we  can  get  rid  of  space  and  time  in  our 


204  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

consciousness  of  the  material  world.  But  feelings  which 
involve  authority  are  found  to  involve  much  more.  And  here 
it  is  that  the  faculty  of  faith  with  its  forms  comes  in.  By 
means  of  these  it  explicates  what  is  contained  in  these  fac- 
ulties or  states  of  consciousness.  And  what  are  these  forms  ? 
They  are  none  other  than  what  Kant  calls  the  postulates  of 
the  pure  reason,  —  God,  freedom,  and  immortality.  In  other 
words,  Faith  constructs  for  us  a  world  of  free  immortal  beings, 
living  and  moving  and  having  their  being  in  God,  just  as 
Understanding  constructs  for  us  a  world  of  transient,  ne- 
cessitated things,  determined  by  the  categories  of  quantity, 
quality,  relation,  and  modality.  And  there  is  no  reason  to 
doubt  the  validity  of  the  one  more  than  of  the  other.  To 
Kant,  indeed,  God,  freedom,  and  immortality  are  mere  pos- 
tulates, revealing  and  shaping  no  reality ;  but  this  is  because 
he  does  not  recognize  that  we  have  any  moral  sense  giving 
us  experience  for  these  terms  to  determine.  As  soon  as  we 
recognize  that  we  have  a  moral  sense,  and  that  this  sense 
gives  us  the  content  of  moral  experience,  we  at  once  see  how 
those  forms,  which  with  Kant  remained  empty  postulates, 
may  determine  the  content  and  result  in  a  real  moral  world. 
It  is  curious  and  interesting  in  this  connection  to  see  how 
Kant,  from  his  failure  to  see  that  the  moral  sense  has  a  con- 
tent of  which  God,  freedom,  and  immortality  are  the  forms, 
has  been  obliged  to  let  his  philosophy  fall  asunder  into  two 
disconnected  parts,  both  of  which  are  imperfect  and  which 
do  not  supplement  each  other.  In  his  Critique  of  Pure  Rea- 
son Kant  gives  us  a  theory  of  experience  of  the  world  as 
known,  without  doing  anything  to  prove  to  us  that  it  is  not 
a  subjective  delusion  entirely  dependent  for  its  character  upon 
the  nature  of  our  consciousness.  In  his  Critique  of  the  Prac- 
tical Reason  again  he  finds  the  grounds  of  Morality  in  a  mere 
"categorical  imperative,"  which  hangs  in  the  air,  and  is  not 
supported  by  any  metaphysical  order  of  being.  He  sees, 
indeed,  that  this  imperative,  in  order  to  be  rational,  demands 


FAITH  AS  A  FACULTY  205 

three  postulates,  —  God,  freedom,  and  immortality,  —  but 
whether  these  postulates  correspond  to  any  reality  he  is 
unable  to  say.  He  does  not  recognize  that  the  moral  sense 
and  the  forms  of  faith  supply  that  very  world  of  things  in 
themselves  which  is  needed  to  complete  the  phenomenal 
world  and  at  the  same  time  to  supply  the  laws  of  ethical  life. 
Accordingly  he  does  not  see  that  things  in  themselves  are 
and  must  be  free,  moral,  and  eternal  beings,  and  that  the 
phenomenal  world  is  the  result  of  their  activity.  Hence  his 
world,  like  his  philosophy,  breaks  up  into  two  disconnected 
parts,  the  world  of  theory  having  no  connection  with  the 
world  of  practice,  and  both  being  left  without  any  eternal 
foundation.  The  effect  of  this  upon  the  philosophy  of  the 
last  hundred  years  has  been  in  many  ways  most  unfortunate. 
It  has  broken  up  the  world  of  man's  consciousness ;  it  has 
induced  a  despair  of  ever  understanding  the  world ;  it  has 
discredited  philosophy  and  brought  about  a  decay  of  interest 
in  it ;  it  has  led  to  a  low  materialism  in  science,  to  the  divorce 
of  ethics  from  any  theory  of  the  world,  and  to  the  decay  of 
religion  and  the  religious  consciousness  which  rests  upon  the 
conviction  that  the  world  at  its  foundation  —  that  is,  in  its 
essential  being — is  free,  divine,  and  moral. 

It  is  a  very  common  reproach  cast  against  philosophy  that 
its  history  is  a  history  of  ruined  systems  ;  that  instead  of 
advancing  in  an  orderly  way,  like  the  experimental  sciences, 
it  has  had  in  every  epoch  to  begin  afresh.  One  reason  for 
this  is  very  obvious  :  the  world  to  be  explained  is  different 
at  different  epochs,  and  so  is  the  form  of  the  explanation 
demanded  ;  but  this  is  not  the  only  reason.  A  far  deeper  and 
more  potent  one  is  this,  —  that  all  the  philosophies  hitherto 
have  failed  to  take  due  account  of  one  most  important  element 
in  the  nature  and  theory  of  the  world,  namely  the  content  of 
faith  ;  they  have  left  that  to  religion,  which  has  nearly  always 
stood  aside  of,  and  in  opposition  to,  philosophy.  It  may  be 
said  that  there  is  one  very  marked  and  important  exception 


206  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

to  this  rule,  namely  the  scholastic  philosophy  of  the  Middle 
Age.  This,  it  may  be  said,  took  account  of  the  content  of  faith. 
While  this  is  in  one  sense  true,  it  is  so  only  when  faith  is 
used  in  a  peculiar  sense,  one  largely  different  from  that  in 
which  it  is  used  in  this  paper.  In  scholasticism  "  faith  "  means, 
not  a  faculty  of  the  human  soul,  but  an  acceptance  by  the 
reason  of  certain  facts  and  dogmas  held  to  have  been  com- 
municated by  a  special  revelation  from  God.  As  a  conse- 
quence of  this,  philosophy  was  not  extended  so  as  to  include 
religion  and  the  data  of  faith  ;  rather  were  religion  and  the- 
ology placed  in  opposition  to  philosophy  and  the  latter  made 
merely  a  handmaid  of  the  former.  I  think,  then,  we  may  say 
that  philosophy  has  never  taken  account  of  faith  as  an  inte- 
gral faculty  of  the  mind,  or  correlated  its  data  as  such,  with 
those  of  the  other  faculties.  The  world  of  philosophy,  there- 
fore, has  always  been  an  imperfect  world.  It  is  true,  indeed, 
that  numerous  attempts  have  been  made  to  arrive  at  the 
forms  of  faith  without  taking  account  of  the  faculty  of  faith. 
Such  are  the  so-called  proofs  of  the  existence  of  God,  which 
have  played  so  important  a  part  in  philosophy,  but  whose 
insufficiency  Kant  so  clearly  showed  in  the  Critique  of  Pure 
Reason.  Since  this  was  done,  the  existence  of  God,  and 
therewith  of  freedom  and  immortality,  have  become,  to  say 
the  least,  problematic.  Those  who  still  believe  in  them  do 
so  either  from  old  habit  and  association  or  because  they  be- 
lieve that  these  things  are  a  matter  of  direct  divine  revelation. 
For  nearly  all  others  they  are  either  implicitly  or  explicitly 
obsolete  notions  ;  and  since  these  are  the  notions  that  give 
meaning  to  life,  life  is  suffering  from  the  want  of  them. 

If  I  am  told  that  these  practical  needs  should  not  be  allowed 
to  have  any  weight  in  a  matter  of  pure  philosophy,  I  can  only 
reply  that  no  advance  in  philosophy  or  anything  else  has  been 
made,  save  in  answer  to  a  practical  need.  At  the  present 
time  it  has  become  evident  that  there  is  no  true  way  of 
reaching  any  certainty  with  regard  to  God,   freedom,   and 


FAITH  AS  A  FACULTY 


207 


immortality,  unless  we  can  show  that  they  are  involved  in 
actual  experience,  that  we  have  a  faculty  whereby  they  are 
directly  cognized.  Neither  revelation  nor  inference  will  help 
us,  since  they  are  both  meaningless  without  the  experience 
referred  to. 

Now  I  think  I  have  shown  that  in  the  data  of  the  moral 
sense,  as  determined  by  the  forms  of  faith,  we  have  the  exist- 
ence of  a  moral  and  metaphysical  world  —  the  two  terms 
mean  the  same  thing  —  assured  to  us.  It  is  no  longer  either 
a  matter  of  hearsay  or  a  postulate ;  it  is  a  reality  and  the 
truest  of  all  realities.  I  am,  indeed,  very  far  from  supposing 
that  I  have  worked  out  this  great  truth  in  all  its  details  or 
given  it  a  completely  scientific  form ;  but  I  think  I  have 
shown  its  presuppositions  and  bearings,  and  likewise  its  neces- 
sity in  order  to  give  unity  and  completeness  to  our  view  of 
the  world,  and  meaning  to  our  lives.  Having  now  shown 
what  faith,  as  a  faculty  of  the  human  soul,  reveals  to  us,  let 
us  next  try  to  see  what  it  commands  us  to  do.  The  word 
"  command,"  I  must  admit,  is  here  not  a  happy  one,  if  it  be 
taken  in  its  literal  sense ;  for  faith  gives  no  commands  of  any 
kind  :  it  simply  reveals  to  us  a  world  of  reality,  with  which, 
for  good  or  for  evil,  we  are  inseparably  bound  up  and  leaves 
us  to  draw  our  own  conclusions  as  to  what  conduct  is  best 
with  reference  to  that  world.  Only  in  this  sense  does  it  com- 
mand us.  What  we  have  now  to  consider  is,  what  the  moral 
world,  being  such  as  it  is,  revealed  to  us  by  faith,  suggests  in 
the  way  of  conduct. 

The  moral  world,  then,  is  a  world  of  eternal  beings,  having 
their  root  and  origin  in  one  Eternal  Being  of  infinite  perfec- 
tion, which  includes  boundless  freedom.  All  these  beings  are 
so  connected  with  the  Perfect  Being  that  he  is  at  once  their 
deepest  form  and  necessarily,  therefore,  their  goal.  Here  we 
must  adopt  a  line  of  thought  with  which  the  philosophy  of 
Aristotle  has  made  us  familiar.  That  thinker  tells  us  that 
the  state  is  prior  in  nature  to  the  individual,  which  is  only  a 


2o8  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

particular  case  of  a  universal  law,  namely  that  the  end  is  prior 
in  nature  to  the  beginning,  for  any  individual.  Just  as  it  is  the 
political  characteristic  in  man  that  makes  possible  at  once  the 
civil  institution  and  civilized  man,  so  it  is  the  divine  charac- 
teristic or  form  in  him  that  makes  possible  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  and  the  divine  man.  Indeed,  it  is  the  divine  form 
immanent  in  the  world,  that,  in  working  itself  out,  is  gradu- 
ally reducing  it  to  the  image  of  God. 

Man,  then,  is  man,  because  he  has  in  him  that  divine  form. 
In  this  he  differs  from  all  the  rest  of  the  creation  known  to 
us.  Having  this  form,  he  is  free.  But  he  possesses  this  form 
only  in  an  undeveloped  form,  and  his  freedom,  therefore,  is 
potential,  rather  than  actual.  Man  is  not  free  but  he  has  the 
power  to  become  free  by  actualizing  the  divine  form  in  him- 
self. This  is  the  strange  condition  in  which  man  finds  him- 
self, — a  condition  which  gives  rise  to  all  the  endless  discussions 
in  regard  to  the  freedom  of  the  will.  It  is  entirely  possible  to 
maintain  that  a  man  is  free  and  also  that  he  is  not  free,  the 
facts  being  that  he  is  not  actually  free  until  he  frees  himself. 
It  is  difficult  to  express  this  in  intelligible  language.  He  can- 
not choose  until  he  does  choose  :  it  is  in  the  very  act  of  choos- 
ing that  he  becomes  free  to  choose.  Perhaps  we  may  make 
this  somewhat  clearer  by  a  parallel  case  which  'occurs  in  per- 
ception. When  I  perceive  that  this  paper  is  white  I  make  a 
judgment  to  that  effect ;  the  judgment  and  the  perception  are 
one  and  the  same  thing.  I  do  not  perceive  and  then,  having 
perceived,  judge.  I  can  neither  perceive  till  I  have  judged, 
nor  judge  till  I  have  perceived.  In  the  judgment  the  subject 
is  not  subject  nor  predicate  predicate  until  the  judgment  is  pro- 
nounced. It  is  in  the  judgment  that  I  become  first  aware  of 
them  and  of  their  relation.  In  the  same  way,  before  I  choose 
I  am  incapable  of  choosing :  my  will  is  absolutely  determined 
one  way  or  the  other  by  what  we  call  motives,  generally 
assignable.  When,  on  the  other  hand,  I  do  choose,  my  choice 
is  entirely  free.    Indeed,  I  have  no  method  of  telling  which  is 


FAITH  AS  A  FACULTY  209 

the  stronger  motive  center.  I  have  made  my  choice.  The 
stronger  motive  is  the  one  I  choose  to  follow.  It  is  strong 
because  I  follow  it,  and  I  follow  it  because  it  is  strong.  In 
one  and  the  same  act  I  impart  to  a  motive  all  the  strength  it 
has,  and  follow  it  because  it  is  strong.  I  can  never  say,  This 
I  recognize  to  be  the  stronger  motive,  and  therefore  I  must, 
or  shall,  follow  it.  In  recognizing  it  as  the  stronger,  I  have 
made  it  the  stronger.  This  is  the  paradox  of  the  will,  which 
has  a  perfect  parallel  in  the  paradox  of  the  intellect.  The 
fact  is  that  our  spiritual  powers,  those  that  express  the  divine 
form,  are  not  conditioned  by  before  and  after ;  if  they  were, 
freedom  would  be  utterly  impossible.  It  may  be  said,  Does 
the  will  then  act  without  motives,  spontaneously  and  blindly  ? 
Are  acts  of  will  purely  arbitrary  acts  ?  Here  we  must  make  a 
distinction.  What  are  usually  called  motives,  and  regarded  as 
determining  the  will,  do  not  determine  it  at  all  and,  in  so  far, 
it  may  be  said  to  act  without  motives.  But  there  is  another 
motive  which  is  forever  present,  namely  freedom,  and  from 
this  it  cannot  possibly  escape.  But  what  is  freedom  ?  It  is 
simply  the  activity  of  the  will  itself.  In  saying,  therefore, 
that  freedom  is  the  motive  of  the  will,  we  are  simply  saying 
that  the  will  is  its  own  motive.  It  moves  because  it  moves ; 
it  is  determined  because  it  determines  itself.  It  is  moved  by 
motives  because  it  makes  the  motives.  It  wills  itself,  its  own 
actuality,  and  that  alone.  In  so  far  as  it  does,  or  seems  to 
do,  aught  beyond  this,  it  is  not  in  reality  willing  at  all ;  in  so 
far  as  actions  are  determined  by  natural  laws  without  the 
interference  of  the  will,  there  is,  in  fact,  dreaming,  —  a  mere 
hypnotic  state-consciousness,  —  without  will. 

Man's  will,  the  form  of  freedom  in  him,  is  his  essential 
self.  This  will  is  a  form,  which  being  infinite  cannot  be  real- 
ized in  any  assignable  time.  The  process  is  therefore  an 
everlasting  one,  tending  forever  toward  a  goal  that  can  never 
be  reached.  That  goal  is  God,  who  is  the  Perfect  Will,  Free- 
dom completely  actualized.    Seeing,  then,  that  faith  shows  us 


210  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

to  be  sons  of  God,  whose  form  is  divine  freedom,  or  the  com- 
plete realization  of  the  will,  and  seeing  that  the  complete 
realization  of  the  form  of  a  thing  is  the  truth  of  the  thing, 
we  may  state  the  whole  duty  of  man  in  a  word,  namely,  Be 
your  true  self,  or  Be  a  will,  or  Be  free,  or  Be  perfect  as  the 
Father  which  is  in  Heaven  is  perfect.  These  imperatives  all 
mean  the  same  thing,  and  that  thing  is  at  once  the  essence 
of  all  religions  and  of  all  true  ethical  systems.  It  is  not  my 
purpose  here  to  enter  into  the  details  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  imperatives  may  be  obeyed,  or  to  lay  down  a  code  of 
ethical  rules  or  precepts  of  perfection.  I  merely  wish  to  say 
that  faith  reveals  to  us  a  world  in  which  all  life  is  eternal  life, 
and  since  we  are  in  that  world,  we  are  in  duty  bound  to  live 
for  eternity.  This  is  the  point  which  this  whole  paper  is 
intended  to  emphasize.  At  the  present  day,  having  set  aside 
and  ignored  the  data  of  faith,  because  the  nature  of  faith  has 
been  misunderstood,  we  are  trying  to  construct  formulae  and 
ideals  of  life  without  God,  freedom,  and  immortality.  We 
are  saying,  "  The  present  phase  of  existence  is  all ;  let  us 
see  how  we  can  make  the  most  of  it,"  and  are,  in  consequence, 
tending  to  a  low  prudential  utilitarianism.  It  is  true  that  we 
are  still  so  far  influenced  by  old  habits  and  thoughts,  forms 
derived  from  a  view  of  the  world  which  included  the  data  of 
faith,  that  we  neither  see  the  end  we  are  making  for  nor 
hasten  toward  it  as  rapidly  as  we  should  otherwise  do ;  but 
these  habits  and  thought  forms,  if  unsupported  by  the  total 
views  to  which  they  belong,  will  inevitably  sooner  or  later 
die  out,  and  then  the  race  to  the  new  goal  will  proceed  with 
headlong  speed.  I  see  no  other  way  to  prevent  the  result 
than  by  restoring  to  human  consciousness  the  content  of 
faith,  by  showing  that  God,  freedom,  and  immortality  are 
not  motives  derived  from  a  special  external  revelation,  but  that 
they  are  integral  parts  of  the  human  consciousness,  as  such. 
I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  say  that  every  human  being  is 
born  with  these  conceptions  clearly  defined  in  his  mind  — 


FAITH  AS  A  FACULTY  21 1 

very  far  from  it ;  I  only  mean  that  they  are  there  in  the  same 
condition  in  which  all  other  conceptions  originally  are,  a  con- 
dition of  potentiality  or  latency.  They  can  be  brought  out 
into  clearness  only  as  the  forms  of  the  understanding  are 
brought  out  by  actual  experience.  As  the  forms  of  the  under- 
standing are  evolved  through  contact  with  the  world  of  sense, 
so  the  forms  of  faith  are  evolved  by  contact  with  morality 
and  religion,  and  particularly  of  the  latter.  What  we  need 
above  all  things  at  the  present  day,  is  a  comprehension  of 
the  religious  world, — not  merely  an  intellectual  comprehen- 
sion of  it,  but  a  comprehension  of  it  with  the  whole  being. 
We  must  be  able  to  enter  into  the  consciousness  of  Isaiah,  of 
Jesus,  of  the  Buddha,  of  St.  Francis,  St.  Bernard,  and  of  all 
those  to  whom  the  moral  world  has  been  a  clear  reality.  And 
not  only  so,  but  we  must  enter  into  the  whole  religious  con- 
sciousness, that  which  underlies  and  includes  the  conscious- 
ness of  all  such  men  as  these,  the  religious  consciousness  of 
the  world.  It  is  in  this  and  through  this  that  our  concep- 
tions of  the  data  of  faith  will  find  definiteness  and  fullness, 
and  that  the  moral  world  will  gain  reality  for  us.  And  another 
great  and  far-reaching  result  will  accrue  from  the  true  view 
of  faith  as  a  faculty  of  the  human  soul,  namely  the  insight 
that  all  religion  is  one  religion,  that  all  revelations  are  por- 
tions of  the  one  continuous  revelation  which  is  being  made  to 
and  through  humanity  ;  that  they  are  aspects  of  the  spiritual 
world,  in  which  are  all  reality,  and  ultimately  all  truth.  The 
world  at  the  present  day  is  still  divided  up  into  a  number  of 
religious  sects  which  oppose  and  paralyze  each  other,  and 
in  doing  so  prevent  the  realization  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 
Each  sect  chains  a  special  revelation,  and  standing  upon  that, 
condemns  or  ignores  all  other  revelations.  Thus  the  spiritual 
force  of  the  world  is  wasted  in  vain  controversies  about 
external  matters,  instead  of  being  turned  to  realize  the  inner 
and  eternal  world  and  to  make  the  content  of  it  the  norm 
and  guide  of  life.    Thus  philosophy  and  religion,  State  and 


2I2  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

Church,  are  divorced,  and  the  harmony  and  the  unity  of  life 
broken  up.  Here  in  America  we  frequently,  and  with  entire 
justice,  congratulate  ourselves  that  we  have  completely  sepa- 
rated State  and  Church,  and  forbidden  the  one  to  interfere  in 
the  affairs  of  the  other.  But  we  ought  to  be  fully  aware  that 
this  is  but  a  temporary  condition  of  things,  rendered  neces- 
sary because  the  Church  has  placed  itself  in  a  false  position, 
by  claiming  to  stand  upon  something  which  does  not  corre- 
spond to  any  human  faculty,  —  upon  merely  external  revelation. 
As  soon  as  there  is  a  church  which  men  feel  and  recognize 
to  be  the  embodiment  and  organ  of  something  revealed  to 
themselves,  this  opposition  will  of  necessity  cease  and  Church 
and  State  will  stand  to  each  other  in  an  organic  relation.  Then 
there  will  no  longer  be  any  conflict  between  the  two  as  to 
which  should  undertake  the  work  of  education ;  then  there 
will  be  no  attempt  to  find  a  means  of  teaching  morality  apart 
from  religion,  no  effort  to  render  unto  Caesar  the  things  that 
are  Caesar's,  without  rendering  unto  God  the  things  that  are 
God's. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  World's  Fair,  which  has  fur- 
nished the  occasion  for  bringing  us  together,  is  a  marvellous 
exhibition  of  what  the  genius  of  men  can  make  of  the  material 
world  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  his  own  nature  to  furnish  the 
conditions  under  which  he  may  realize  the  divine  form  or 
image  in  himself.  But  what  if,  when  the  conditions  are  given, 
the  end  for  which  they  exist  be  not  realized,  what  if  we  stop 
short  with  the  conditions,  satisfied  with  them,  and  never  use 
them  to  raise  ourselves  toward  our  true  end?  What  if  we 
never  at  all  become  conscious  of  that  high  world  in  which  our 
end  lies  ?  What  if  God,  freedom,  and  immortality  be  entirely 
forgotten  in  all  our  doings,  or  remain  matters  of  mere  hear- 
say ?    What,  then,  would  the  World's  Fair  be  worth  ? 

You  probably  all  know  that  the  last  Paris  exhibition  fur- 
nished the  starting  point  for  a  great  idealistic  reformatory 
movement  in  France,  a  movement  which  bids  fair  to  renovate 


FAITH  AS  A  FACULTY  213 

her  whole  moral  life.  Is  it  too  much  to  hope  that  the  Chicago 
World's  Fair  may,  through  its  Auxiliary,  accomplish  some- 
thing of  the  same  sort  for  the  United  States,  that  a  move- 
ment may  now  be  started  which,  by  claiming  faith  as  an 
integral  part  of  human  nature,  and  proving  that  it  makes  us 
certain  of  God,  freedom,  and  immortality,  shall  give  unity, 
consistency,  and  impregnability  to  religion,  and  make  it  the 
fortress  of  ethical  life  ? 


APPENDIX  A 

The  following  prospectus  of  one  of  Mr.  Davidson's  courses  of 
lectures  in  New  York  is  printed  as  an  illustration  of  the  kind  of 
material  he  deemed  it  advisable  to  bring  before  the  Breadwinners, 
and  of  the  range  of  his  own  studies.  It  is  printed  in  the  belief  that 
it  may  be  of  use,  not  only  to  students  of  the  subject  outside  the  Uni- 
versities and  Churches,  but  also  to  those  within  them  who  wish  to 
become  familiar  with  the  vast  range  of  the  literature  of  the  subject. 

THE  ORIGINS  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT 

A   SERIES  OF   TWENTY  LECTURES  WITH  A  LIST   OF  BOOKS 
FOR  COLLATERAL  READING 

By  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

THE  ORIGINS  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT  AND  BELIEF 

The  aim  of  this  course  of  lectures  is  to  investigate  the  nature  and 
validity  of  modern  thought  by  tracing  it  to  its  origin  in  the  past.  This 
is  now,  for  the  first  time,  rendered  possible  through  the  results  achieved 
in  the  last  half  century  by  archaeological  and  historical  research  and 
literary  criticism,  —  results  which  have  done  much  to  set  the  past  in  its 
true  light  and  deliver  us  from  the  weight  of  its  authority.  The  course 
consists  of  twenty  lectures,  ten  on  ancient,  and  ten  on  mediaeval  and 
modern  thought,  closing  with  an  attempt  to  outline  the  tendencies  of 
future  thought. 

I  — ANCIENT  THOUGHT 

Lecture  I  —  Introductory 

In  what  sense  should,  and  must,  past  thought  influence  us?  True 
and  false  conservatism.  Need  for  a  thorough  and  unsparing  criticism 
of  tradition  in  thought  and  practice,  especially  at  present.  "  New  occa- 
sions teach  new  duties  "  and  creeds.    The  evil  of  over-conservatism  and 

2I5 


216  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

over-radicalism.  All  advance  either  by  evolution  or  revolution :  the 
difference.  The  relation  of  the  United  States,  as  a  nation,  to  past  and 
present  thought.  The  sources  of  modern  thought  and  practice  :  Hebrew 
prophetism,  Greek  philosophy,  Roman  statesmanship,  Muslim  scholas- 
ticism, Jewish  and  Christian  scholasticism,  Germanic  paganism. 

Lecture  II  —  Hebrew  Prophecy 

Its  origin,  affinities,  and  nature  as  shown  by  the  higher  criticism. 
The  central  trinity  of  Hebrew  concepts :  monotheism,  Messianism,  holi- 
ness. Its  gradual  evolution  under  social  influences.  Authentic  Hebrew 
history  begins  with  Samuel ;  so  does  prophecy.  Tendencious  recon- 
struction of  previous  history  out  of  myths  and  legends  derived  from 
various  sources.  Character  of  Hebrew  historical  records.  The  worship 
of  Yahweh.  The  central  conflict  of  Hebrew  history  :  church  and  state  ; 
authority  and  freedom. 

Lecture  III  —  Hebrew  Prophecy 

Hebrews  and  Canaanites  under  David  and  Solomon.  The  religious 
influence  of  these  men.  Priests,  prophets,  and  wise  men :  their  origin 
and  functions.  Wisdom  literature.  Division  of  Hebrew  kingdom.  Israel 
and  Judah  and  their  relations.  The  civic  and  prophetic  parties.  Nomad- 
ism of  the  latter.  Elijah  and  Elisha.  Gradual  growth  of  monolatry, 
then  of  monotheism.  Song  of  Solomon.  Amos  and  Hosea,  and  the 
state  of  Israelitish  thought  at  the  time  of  the  Captivity. 

Lecture  IV  —  Hebrew  Prophecy 

The  ideas  of  Messianism  and  holiness.  Isaiah  and  his  influence. 
The  Law.  The  Book  of  Deuteronomy  and  Josiah's  reformation.  Its 
failure  and  the  result  of  it.  Prophecy  and  monotheism  triumphant. 
Yahweh  becomes  the  universal  God,  and  the  Jews  his  chosen  people. 
The  creed  of  Judah  at  the  Captivity.  Why  different  from  that  of  Israel. 
Jeremiah  and  the  breach  with  ritual.  The  fate  of  the  ten  tribes.  They 
were  not  "lost."  The  return,  and  the  "second  Isaiah."  Ezekiel  and 
the  rise  of  apocalypticism.    The  end  of  true  prophecy. 

Lecture  V — Hebrew  Prophecy 

Replaced  by  scribism  and  a  written  law.  The  post-exilic  theocracy : 
its  origin.  The  Law,  introduced  by  Ezra.  The  Hexateuch  and  its  com- 
position. Origin  of  the  Old  Testament  canon :  its  divisions  and  their 
order — Prophets,   Law,   Hagiographa.     The   wisdom   literature:    Job, 


APPENDIX  A  217 

Proverbs,  Qoheleth,  etc.  The  Psalms :  their  date  and  use.  Post-exilic 
Messianic  notions.  The  Messiah  unknown  to  the  Old  Testament.  Judea 
under  the  Persians  and  under  the  Greeks. 


Lecture  VI  —  Hebrew  Prophecy 

In  conflict  with  foreign  ideas.  The  Dispersion  and  its  doctrines. 
Knows  no  personal,  temporal  Messiah.  Replaced  by  Logos  and  Sophia. 
The  Maccabean  Rising  and  the  Chasidim.  The  Book  of  Daniel.  Sad- 
ducees  and  Pharisees.  Babylonian  and  Persian  influences  and  notions : 
angels,  personal  immortality,  heavenly  Messiah,  Messianic  age,  final 
judgment,  eternal  hell,  with  devils.  Apocryphal  works  in  Hebrew  and 
Greek :  their  importance  for  the  understanding  of  Christianity.  Great 
value  of  the  Book  of  Enoch.  Infiltration  of  Greek  thought.  Roman 
conquest  of  Judea,  and  its  effect  on  Messianism.  Condition  of  Hebrew 
thought  in  the  century  before  Christ;  Jesus  and  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 
The  purpose  of  Jesus.  The  two  elements  in  his  teaching,  —  righteous- 
ness and  Messianism.  Their  relation  and  conflict.  The  causes  of  his 
immediate  failure  and  ultimate  success.  Jewish  and  pagan  Christians. 
Paul's  influence.    The  New  Testament :  its  origin  and  purpose. 

Lecture  VII  —  Greek  Philosophy 

Judaism  and  Hellenism ;  revelation  and  reason ;  miraculism  and 
nature.  Epochs  in  Greek  thought:  mythology,  theology,  philosophy. 
Origin  of  the  last :  its  problem  and  purpose.  Fate  and  the  gods. 
Necessity  and  convention.  Evolution  of  thought  from  naive  objectivism 
to  pure  subjectivism.  Thales  and  Anaxagoras.  Realism  and  idealism. 
Being  and  Becoming  :  their  origin  and  relation.  The  One  and  the  Many, 
and  the  puzzle  they  offer.  Zeno's  paradoxes  and  what  they  prove. 
Monism  and  atomism ;  both  equally  lead  to  subjectivism. 

Lecture  VIII  —  Greek  Philosophy 

The  Sophists  and  the  triumph  of  subjectivism.  Ancient  Kantianism. 
Decay  of  mythology  and  theology  and  of  the  institutions  founded  upon 
them.  Naturalism  and  spiritualism  an  insoluble  dualism  for  the  Greeks  : 
the  reason  of  this.  The  Greek  "up-clearing,"  and  its  effects.  "Man 
the  measure  of  all  things."  The  force  of  moral  authority  transferred 
to  the  inner  world.  Socrates,  the  archsophist,  inventor  of  science  and 
of  moral  freedom.  The  nature  and  conditions  of  these.  The  Socratic 
method  and  its  results. 


2i8  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 


Lecture  IX  —  Greek  Ehilosophy 

The  true  Socrates,  freed  from  Platonic  additions.    His  contributions 
to  humanity.    The  irony  of  Socrates. 


Lecture  X  —  Greek  Philosophy 

Plato,  and  his  distortion  of  Socrates's  thought.  By  his  poetic  ideas, 
replacing  the  old  gods,  he  bequeaths  to  the  world  a  hopeless  and  unneces- 
sary dualism,  leading  to  metaphysics,  asceticism,  mysticism,  obscurant- 
ism, spiritual  aristocracy  and  authority,  unfreedom,  romanticism,  etc. 
His  doctrine  of  universals.  Champions  Being  as  against  Becoming. 
His  Republic:  its  meaning  and  effects  on  subsequent  thought  and 
practice.  Aristotle,  the  champion  of  Becoming.  His  explanation  of 
change.  Form  and  matter  ;  energy  and  potence.  His  God  :  how  arrived 
at ;  utterly  empty  and  useless,  except  to  lead  to  mysticism  and  Niivana. 
Aristotle's  world  scheme,  and  its  effect  upon  thought  and  science.  He 
is  the  last  great  Greek  thinker.  After  him  Hellenism  passes  into  cos- 
mopolitanism. Stoicism  and  epicureanism  :  religions  rather  than  phi- 
losophies. The  character  of  post- Aristotelian  thought :  its  mysticism, 
paving  the  way  for  mediaevalism. 


II  — MEDIEVAL  AND   MODERN   THOUGHT 

Lecture  XI  —  Union  of  Hebrew  Prophecy  and 
Greek  Philosophy 

This  is  the  source  of  mediaeval  thought,  which  starts  definitely  with 
the  Nicene  Creed  (a.d.  325).  Greeks  and  Jews  in  Alexandria  and 
other  cities.  The  Synagogue  and  the  School  (1  Corinthians  i,  22). 
The  Logos  doctrine  and  its  double  origin.  Philo,  the  Jew,  and  his 
attempts  to  reconcile  Moses  and  Plato  —  Jewish  theism  and  Greek 
idealism — by  allegory.  The  effect  of  this.  The  importance  of  Hellenic 
Judaism. 

Primitive  Christianity  an  ethical  law  and  a  Messianic  hope.  Based 
on  what  were  believed  to  be  facts.  Innocent  of  metaphysics,  the- 
ology, or  dogma.  Paul  and  rabbinical  Christianity :  its  extension  to 
the  pagan  world.  Johannine  Christianity  and  the  intrusion  of  Greek 
(mystical)  thought,  necessitating  dogma.  Nature  of  dogma.  Primitive 
Christianity  and  the  Apostles'  Creed,  which  contains  no  sign  of  Greek 
thought. 


APPENDIX  A  219 

Lecture  XII  —  Union  of  Hebrew  Prophecy  and 
Greek  Philosophy 

Eastern  (Greek)  and  Western  (Jewish)  Christianity :  pantheism  and 
theism.  The  former  formulated  by  Origen,  who  acknowledges  two 
Christianities,  an  historical  and  a  spiritual  (Matthew  xiii,  2).  Origen's 
influence.  Personal  and  non-personal  Messianism.  The  latter  takes 
form  in  neo-Platonism.  The  relation  of  this  to  Christianity  :  dogmatism 
and  mysticism.  The  Christian  and  neo-Platonic  trinities.  The  neo- 
Platonic  world  scheme  and  its  gradual  intrusion  into  Christianity,  causing 
asceticism,  mysticism,  monasticism,  and  decay  of  science.  Mithra  wor- 
ship, and  its  effect  on  Christianity.  Gnosticism:  takes  final  form  in 
Manichaeism  (Mani,  a.d.  215-276).  Nature,  spread,  and  lasting  effects 
of  this.  Gradual  decay  of  primitive  Christianity  under  Greek  and  gnostic 
influences.  Faith  vs.  Metaphysics.  Heresy.  The  New  Testament  canon : 
its  use  to  prevent  heresy. 

Lecture  XIII  —  Roman  Statesmanship 

The  legal  element  in  Christianity.  Origin  and  character  of  the  Roman 
State.  The  Empire  and  its  need  for  a  universal  religion.  Religion  and 
State  in  the  ancient  world.  Vain  attempts  to  find  an  imperial  religion, 
and  their  sad  results.  The  causes  of  the  success  of  Christianity.  Its 
union  with  the  Empire,  giving  definiteness  and  force  of  law  to  Hebrew 
beliefs  clothed  in  Greek  abstraction.  The  dogmas  of  Christianity  thus 
claim  both  divine  and  human  authority.  Gradual  formulation  of  the 
fundamental  dogmas  of  Catholic  Christianity,  —  trinity  and  incarnation. 
Reason  abdicates  in  favor  of  faith,  and  the  Middle  Age  begins. 

Lecture  XIV  —  Roman  Statesmanship 

Augustine  lays  the  basis  of  Latin  Christianity  by  incorporating  into 
it  elements  from  Roman  legalism,  neo-Platonic  (Plotinian)  mysticism 
and  Manichasism.  His  notions  of  atonement,  redemption,  and  evil. 
The  secularization  of  the  Church  leads  to  a  reaction  in  the  form  of 
monasticism.  The  nature  and  meaning  of  this :  triumph  of  (Platonic) 
supernaturalism.  Growth  of  mysticism.  Its  connection  with  the  works 
of  (Pseudo-)  Dionysius  Areopagita.  Their  character,  origin,  and  effects 
upon  the  Church.  Contradictory  elements  in  the  Church's  creed  :  world 
renunciation  and  world  rule.  The  Eastern  and  Western  Empire  and 
Church.  The  inroads  of  the  barbarians.  St.  Benedict  and  Western 
monasticism :  contempt  for  the  world. 


220  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

{Digression)  What  is  it  in  human  nature  that  makes  it  possible  for 
the  supernatural  and  mystical  to  triumph  over  the  natural  and  rational? 


Lecture  XV  —  Muslim  Scholasticism 

Origin,  nature,  and  spread  of  Islam.  It  is  mainly  Judaism  carried 
to  its  extreme  logical  results.  The  Christian  (Ebionite  and  Nestorian), 
Mazdean  (Sabian  and  Manichaean)  and  Arabic  pagan  elements  in  it. 
It  denies  the  two  fundamental  Catholic  dogmas  (Koran,  Sura  cxii). 
The  Koran :  its  origin  and  character.  Arab  philosophy :  its  origin  and 
character.  A  compound  of  Aristotelianism  and  neo-Platonism.  Eastern 
and  Western  schools,  and  the  great  names  in  both.  All  the  problems  of 
later  Christian  scholasticism  discussed  in  the  Arab  schools.  Arab  addi- 
tions to  thought.  The  ultimate  triumph  of  blind  orthodoxy  in  both 
schools.  The  dogmatic  Sunnites  and  the  mystic  Shi'ites.  The  Sufis. 
Islam  the  true  Unitarianism. 


Lecture  XVI  —  Jewish  and  Christian  Scholasticism 

Effect  of  Islam  upon  Jewish  thought.  Ibn  Gabirol  (Avicebron)  and 
Maimonides  (forerunners  of  Spinoza).  The  Fons  Vitcz  and  Morek 
Nebukhim.  Effect  of  Islam  on  Christianity  compels  it  to  give  sys- 
tematic formulation  to  its  dogmas.  The  result, — scholasticism.  The 
relation  of  this  to  patristicism  and  mysticism.  Irish  and  Anglo-Saxon 
learning.  Charlemagne,  Alcuin,  and  the  revival  of  learning.  The  ideals 
of  Charlemagne.  Gregory  VII  and  his  supernatural  programme.  St. 
Anselm,  St.  Bernard,  and  the  reaction  of  Roscellinus  and  Abelard. 
Joachim  of  Floris  and  St.  Francis.  Europe  sinking  into  supernaturalism 
when  roused  by  Islam.  Islam  the  bearer  of  civilization  for  nearly  five 
hundred  years. 


Lecture  XVII  —  Christian  Scholasticism 

Paved  the  way  for  rationalism.  The  epochs  of  scholasticism  and 
their  respective  characteristics.  Philosophy  the  handmaid  of  theology. 
Scotus  Erigena,  and  the  introduction  of  mysticism  into  the  West.  The 
struggle  between  theism  and  pantheism.  The  Platonic  doctrine  of  uni- 
versals  and  the  Christian  Trinity.  Realism  and  nominalism.  Joachim's 
Eternal  Gospel,  and  the  introduction  of  Aristotle  into  Western  thought. 
The  far-reaching  effects  of  both.  Thomas  Aquinas,  Bonaventura, 
Dante. 


APPENDIX  A  221 

Lecture  XVIII  —  Germanic  Paganism 

Nurse  of  individualism.  Latin  and  German ;  Authority  and  Freedom. 
Effect  of  Arian  and  Catholic  Christianity  upon  the  Germans.  The 
Holy  Roman  Empire.  German  mysticism  :  its  nature  and  importance. 
Germanic  reaction  against  Latin  mysticism.  The  Reformation  (revolt 
of  reason)  and  the  Renaissance  (revolt  of  nature).  Their  effects.  The 
growing  demand  for  individual  liberty  in  thought,  affection,  and  act. 
Conditions  of  this.  Savonarola  and  Bruno,  Servetus.  Rise  of  modern 
thought.  Shakespeare,  Bacon,  Hobbes,  Locke,  and  Descartes.  Spinoza 
and  Berkeley.  Hume  and  the  complete  breach  with  past  thought  con- 
structions. The  response  in  English,  Scotch,  and  German  philosophies. 
The  reconstructive  rationalism  of  Kant.  Philosophy  in  earnest.  Voltaire 
and  Rousseau.  Catholic  and  Protestant  reaction  after  the  French 
Revolution.  Neo-Catholicism  and  Hegelianism.  Rosmini.  Return  to 
mysticism  and  despotism.  Herbert  Spencer,  Darwin,  Huxley,  and  the 
doctrine  of  evolution.    Agnosticism  and  philopistism. 


Lecture  XIX  —  The  Conflict  between  Ancient  and 
Modern  Thought 

The  characteristics  of  the  two.  Supernaturalism  and  naturalism. 
The  gradual  decay  of  the  former  and  growth  of  the  latter.  The  effects 
of  physical  science,  historical  research,  and  higher  criticism.  The 
"up-clearing."  The  contents  of  the  deposit  of  ancient  thought,  and 
its  present  influence.  What  of  it  must  pass  away,  and  what  be  retained. 
The  spiritual  results  of  past  experience,  thought,  and  belief  will  remain, 
but  they  will  assume  new  forms  to  suit  present  thought,  and  give  birth 
to  new,  free  institutions.    Influx  of  Hindu  thought. 


Lecture  XX  —  The  New  Thought 

Its  relation  to  the  old.  Old  thought  theocentric ;  new  thought  an- 
thropocentric.  "  Man  is  man,  and  master  of  his  fate."  The  effect  of 
this  view  upon  thought  and  institutions  ;  upon  the  individual  conscious- 
ness ;  upon  science,  ethics,  religion,  sociology,  education.  The  division 
between  Church  and  State  healed.  Labor  in  the  future.  What  we  may 
learn  from  the  Orient.  The  spiritual  promises  of  the  past  more  than 
fulfilled  in  the  present.  The  Heaven  of  the  future  the  republic  of  free, 
pure  spirits,  ever  growing  through  mutual  intimacy  and  help. 


222  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 


COLLATERAL  READING 


Collateral  Reading 

Those  who  wish  to  make  a  study  of  the  subject  of  these  lectures  will 
find  help  in  the  following  works,  which  have  been  selected  chiefly  on 
account  of  their  accessibility  : 

For  Lecture  I 

i.  Condorcet,  J.  A.  N.    Esquisse   d'un  Tableau   Historique  du  Progres  de 
l'Esprit  Humain. 

2.  Comte,  A.    Systeme  de  Politique  Positive. 

3.  Lecky,  W.  E.  H.    History  of   the   Rise   and   Influence  of  the  Spirit  of 

Rationalism  in  Europe. 

4.  White,  A.  D.    A  History  of  the  Warfare  of  Science  with  Theology. 

For  Lecture  II-VI 

5.  Driver,  S.  R.    Introduction  to  the  Literature  of  the  Old  Testament. 

6.  Driver,  S.  R.    A  Critical  and  Exegetical  Commentary  on  Deuteronomy. 

7.  Driver,  S.  R.    Isaiah,  His  Life  and  Times. 

8.  Smith,  W.  R.    The  Religion  of  the  Semites. 

9.  Smith,  W.  R.    The  Prophets  of  Israel. 

10.  Smith,  W.  R.    The  Old  Testament  in  the  Jewish  Church. 

11.  Wellhausen,  J.    Die  Composition  des  Hexateuchs. 

12.  Wellhausen,  J.    Prolegomena  zur  Geschichte  Israels. 

13.  Wellhausen,  J.    Israelitische  und  Jiidische  Geschichte. 

14.  Cornill,  H.    Der  Israelitische  Prophetismus. 

15.  Holzinger,  H.    Einleitung  in  den  Hexateuch. 

16.  Haupt,  P.    The  Polychrome  Bible. 

17.  Renan,  E.    L'Histoire  du  Peuple  dTsrael. 

18.  Renan,  E.    Le  Cantique  des  Cantiques. 

19.  Renan,  E.    Les  Origines  du  Christianisme. 

20.  Ewald,  H.    Commentary  on  the  Prophets  of  the  Old  Testament. 

21.  Somerwell,  R.    Parallel  History  of  the  Jewish  Monarchy. 

22.  Oort  and  Hooykaas.    The  Bible  for  Learners. 

23.  Schrader,  E.    The  Cuneiform  Inscriptions  and  the  Old  Testament. 

24.  Cheyne,  T.  K.    Jeremiah,  His  Life  and  Times. 

25.  Cheyne,  T.  K.    The  Origin  and  Religious  Contents  of  the  Psalter. 

26.  Cheyne,  T.  K.    Introduction  to  the  Book  of  Isaiah. 

27.  Cheyne,  T.  K.    Job  and  Solomon  (Wisdom  Literature). 

28.  Kuenen,  A.    The  Religion  of  Israel  to  the  Fall  of  the  Jewish  State. 

29.  Ryle,  H.  E.    The  Canon  of  the  Old  Testament. 

30.  Wildeboer,  G.    The  Origin  of  the  Canon  of  the  Old  Testament. 


APPENDIX  A  223 

31.  Schiirer,  E.    A  History  of  the  Jewish  people  in  the  Time  of  Jesus  Christ. 

32.  Charles,  R.  H.    The  Book  of  Enoch. 

33.  Keim,  T.    The  History  of  Jesus  of  Nazara. 

34.  Westcott,  B.  F.    Introduction  to  the  Study  of  the  Gospels. 

35.  Strauss,  D.  F.    The  Life  of  Jesus. 

36.  Hamack,  A.    History  of  Dogma. 

37.  Harnack,  A.    Das  Neue  Testament  urns  Jahr  200. 

38.  Harnack,  A.    Chronologie  der  altchristlichen  Litteratur. 

39.  Weizsacker,  C.    Das  Apostolische  Zeitalter. 

40.  McGiffert,  A.  C.    The  Apostolic  Age. 

41.  Pfleiderer,  O.    Paulinism. 

42.  Julicher,  A.    Einleitung  in  das  Neue  Testament. 

43.  Brandt,  W.    Die  Evangelische  Geschichte  und  der  Ursprung  des  Chris- 

tentums. 

For  Lectures  VII-X 

44.  Zeller,  E.    Die  Philosophie  der  Griechen. 

45.  Ueberweg-Heinze.    Grundriss  der  Geschichte  der  Philosophie.    2  vols. 

46.  Byk,  S.    Vorsokratische  Philosophie. 

47.  Marshall,  J.    A  Short  History  of  Greek  Philosophy. 

48.  Gomperz,  T.    Griechische  Denker. 

49.  Davidson,  T.    The  Education  of  the  Greek  People. 

50.  Dickinson,  G.  L.    The  Greek  View  of  Life. 

51.  Grote,  G.    A  History  of  Greece,  Chapter  LXVII. 

52.  Xenophon.    Memorabilia  of  Socrates. 

53.  Fouillee,  A.    La  Philosophie  de  Socrate. 

54.  Pfleiderer,  O.    Sokrates  und  Plato  dargestellt. 

55.  Plato.    Dialogues  (translated  by  B.  Jowett). 

56.  Bussell,  F.  W.    The  School  of  Plato. 

57.  Grote,  G.    Aristotle. 

58.  Grant,  A.    Aristotle. 

59.  Rosmini-Serbati,  A.    Aristotele  Esposto  e  Esaminato. 


For  Lectures  XI-XIV 

60.  Drummond,  J.    Philo  Judaeus,  or  the  Jewish  Alexandrian  Philosophy. 

61.  Heinze,  M.    Die  Lehre  vom  Logos  in  der  griechischen  Philosophie. 

62.  The  Ante-Nicene  Fathers  (Translated). 

63.  Bigg,  C.    The  Christian  Platonists  of  Alexandria. 

64.  Hatch,  E.    The  Influence  of  Greek  Ideas  and  Usages  upon  the  Chris- 

tian Church  (Hibbert  Lectures,  1888). 

65.  Schaff,  Ph.    History  of  the  Christian  Church. 

66.  Miiller,  K.    Kirchengeschichte. 

67.  Richter,  A.    Neu-Platonische  Studien. 

68.  Fliigel,  G.    Mani,  seine  Lehre  und  seine  Schriften. 

69.  Kessler,  K.    Mani.    Forschungen  iiber  die  Manichaische  Religion. 


2  24 


THOMAS  DAVIDSON 


70.  Harnack,  A.    Monasticism,  its  Ideals  and  its  History. 

71.  Montalambert,  C.  F.    The  Monks  of  the  West. 

72.  Gibbon,  E.    The  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire. 

73.  Grandgeorge,  L.    St.  Augustin  et  le  Neo-Platonisme. 

74.  Frothingham,  A.  L.    Stephen  Bar  Sudaili,  the  Syrian  Mystic,  and  the 

Book  of  Hierotheos. 


For  Lecture  XV 

75.  Muir,  W.    The  Life  of  Mahomet  and  History  of  Islam. 

76.  Sprenger,  A.    The  Life  and  Teaching  of  Mohammed. 

77.  The  Koran.    Translations  by  Sale,  Palmer,  Rodwell,  Lane- Poole. 

78.  Nbldeke,  T.    Geschichte  des  Qorans. 

79.  Miiller,  A.    Der  Islam  im  Morgen-  und  Abendlande. 

80.  Schmolders,  A.    Essai  sur  les  Ecoles  Philosophiques  chez  les  Arabes. 

81.  Renan,  E.    Averroes  et  l'Averroisme. 

82.  Dieterici,  F.    Die  Philosophic  der  Araber  im  X.  Jahrhundert  n.  Chr. 

83.  Steiner,  H.    Die  Mu'taziliten,  oder  die  Freidenker  im  Islam. 

84.  Syed  Ameer  Ali.    Life  and  Teachings  of  Mohammed. 

85.  Gobineau,    Cte.   de.     Les    Religions    et    les    Philosophies    dans    l'Asie 

Centrale. 

86.  Wellhausen,  J.    Reste  arabischen  Heidentumes. 


For  Lectures  XVI-XVII 

87.  Stockl,  A.    Geschichte  der  Philosophic  des  Mittelalters. 

88.  Haureau,  B.    Histoire  de  la  Philosophic  Scolastique. 

89.  Von  Eicken,  H.    Geschichte  und  System  der  Mittelalterlichen  Weltan- 

schauung. 

90.  Jourdain,  A.    Recherches  Critiques  sur  l'Age  et  l'Origine  des  Traduc- 

tions Latines  d'Aristote. 

91.  Steinschneider,  M.   Die  Hebraischen  Uebersetzungen  des  Mittelalters. 

92.  Baumker,  C.    Avencebrolis  (Ibn  Gabirol)  Fons  Vitas. 

93.  Guttmann,  J.    Die  Philosophic  des  Salomon  ibn  Gabirol. 

94.  Munk  S.    Guide  des  Egares,  Traite  de  Theologie  et  de  Philosophic  par 

Moise  ben  Maimoun,  dit  Maimonide. 

95.  West,  A.  F.    Alcuin  and  the  Rise  of  the  Christian  Schools. 

96.  Bryce,  J.    The  Holy  Roman  Empire. 

97.  Gfrorer,  A.  F.    Pabst  Gregorius  VII  und  sein  Zeitalter. 

98.  Scheffel,  J.  V.    Ekkehard,    eine    Geschichte    aus    dem    Zehnten    Jahr- 

hundert. 

99.  Sabatier,  A.    Vie  de  S.  Francois  d'Assise. 

100.  Picavet,  F.    Roscelin,  Philosophe  et  Theologien. 

101.  Remusat,  C.  de.    Abelard. 

102.  Deutsch,  S.  M.    Peter  Abalard,  ein  kritischer  Theologe  des  zwblften 

Jahrhunderts. 


APPENDIX  A  225 

103.  Cousin  V.    Fragments  de  Philosophic  du  Moyen  Age. 

104.  Reuter,  H.    Geschichte  der  religiosen  Aufklarung  im  Mittelalter. 

105.  Talamo,  S.    L'Aristotelismo  della  Scolastica. 

106.  Prantl,  C.    Geschichte  der  Logik  im  Abendlande. 

107.  Tocco,  F.    L'Eresia  ne4  Medio  Evo. 

108.  Vaughan,  R.  W.  B.    The  Life  and  Labors  of  St.  Thomas  of  Aquin. 

109.  Dante.    New  Life,  Banquet,  and  Divine  Comedy, 
no.  Gorres,  F.    Die  Christliche  Mystik. 

in.  Vaughan,  R.  A.    Hours  with  the  Mystics. 

112.  Preger,  W.    Geschichte  der  Deutschen  Mystik  im  Mittelalter. 

113.  Denifle,  P.  H.    Die  Universitaten  des  Mittelalters  bis  1400. 

114.  Krumbacher,  K.    Geschichte  der   Byzantinischen    Litteratur  (a.d.  527- 

1453)- 

115.  Davidson,  T.    The  Philosophical  System  of  Antonio  Rosmini-Serbati. 

116.  Denzinger,  H.    Enchiridion  Symbolorum  et  Definitionum. 


*       For  Lectures  XVIII-XIX 

117.  Anderson,  R.  B.    Norse  Mythology. 

118.  Zeuss,  K.    Die  Deutschen  und  die  Nachbarstamme. 

119.  Ueberweg-Heinze.    Grundriss  der  Geschichte  der  Philosophic,  Part  III. 

120.  Villari,  P.    La  Civilta  Latina  e  la  Civilta  Germanica,  in  Saggi  di  Storia, 

di  Critica  e  di  Politica  (pp.  37-93). 

121.  Fisher,  G.  P.    The  Reformation. 

122.  Symonds,  J.  A.    The  Renaissance  in  Italy. 

123.  Villari,  P.    Life  and  Times  of  Girolamo  Savonarola. 

124.  Frith,  J.    Life  of  Giordano  Bruno. 

125.  Fischer,  K.    Geschichte  der  neuern  Philosophie. 

126.  Bacon,  F.    Novum  Organum  Scientiarum. 

127.  Hobbes,  T.  Leviathan;  or,  The  Matter,  Form,  and  Authority  of  Gov- 

ernment. 

128.  Descartes,  R.    Discourse  on  Method  and  Metaphysical  Meditations. 

129.  Spinoza,  B.    Ethics  and  Theologico-Political  Treatise. 

130.  Locke,  J.    An  Essay  Concerning  the  Human  Understanding. 

131.  Hume,  D.    Treatise  on  Human  Nature. 

132.  Morley,  J.    Voltaire  and  Rousseau. 

133.  Davidson,  T.    Rousseau,  and  Education  according  to  Nature. 

134.  Kant,  I.    Critique  of  Pure  Reason  and  Critique  of  Practical  Reason. 

135.  Hegel,  G.  W.  F.    Phenomenology  of  Mind  and  Logic. 

136.  Schopenhauer,  A.    The  World  as  Will  and  Idea  {VorstelZwig). 

137.  Darwin,  C.    The  Origin  of  Species  and  The  Descent  of  Man. 

138.  Comte,  A.    Cours  de  Philosophie  Positive. 

139.  Spencer,  H.    First  Principles  and  Principles  of  Biology. 

140.  Von  Hartmann,  E.  Die  Philosophie  des  Unbewussten  and  Die  Selbst- 

zersetzung  des  Christentums. 


226  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 


For  Lecture  XX 

141.  Goethe,  J.  W.    Faust  and  Wilhelm  Meister. 

142.  Michel,  H.    L'ld^e  de  l'Etat. 

143.  Drummond,  H.    The  Ascent  of  Man. 

144.  Huxley,  T.  H.    Lay  Sermons,  Addresses,  and  Reviews. 

145.  Hodgson,  S.  H.    The  Metaphysic  of  Experience. 

146.  Marx,  K.    Capital. 

147.  Wundt,  W.    System  der  Philosophie  a?id  Grundriss  der  Psychologie. 

148.  Drews,  A.    Die  Deutsche  Speculation  seit  Kant. 

149.  Nietzsche,  F.    Thus  spake  Zarathustra  and  Beyond  Good  and  Evil. 

150.  Royce,  J.    The  Spirit  of  Modern  Philosophy  and  The  Conception  of  God. 


APPENDIX  B 

LECTURES  AND  INTERPRETATIONS  BY  THOMAS 

DAVIDSON 

I.  Courses  of  Lectures 

i.  Athens,  Ancient  and  Modern  (stereopticon) 

2.  History  of  Greek  Sculpture  (stereopticon) 

3.  Modern  Greece 

4.  Greek  Moralists 

^Eschylus  (two  lectures) 
Socrates  (one  lecture) 
Plato  (one  lecture) 
Aristotle  (two  lectures) 

5.  Spiritual  Thought  (one  lecture)  and  its  Heroes  (ten  lectures) 

Aristotle 

Philo  Judasus 

Plotinus  and  his  School 

Dionysius  Areopagita 

Thomas  Aquinas 

Bonaventura 

Thomas  a  Kempis 

Dante 

Savonarola 

Giordano  Bruno 

6.  Goethe's  Faust 

7.  Rosmini's  Philosophy 

8.  Greek  Education 

9.  Jesuit  Education 

II.  Single  Lectures 

A.   On  Greek  Subjects 

1.  Are  the  Homeric  Legends  Greek? 

2.  The  Home  of  Clytemnestra 

3.  The  Growth  of  Art  Ideas  among  the  Greeks 

4.  Sappho 

5.  The  Irony  of  Plato 

6.  Aristotle's  Debt  to  Plato 

7.  Greek  Education  up  to  Aristotle 

8.  Aristotle  on  Education 

227 


228  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

9.  The  Greek  Theory  of  the  Drama 

10.  The  Fragments  of  Heraclitus 

11.  The  Niobe  Group 

B.   On  Mediceval  Subjects 

1.  The  Revival  of  Thought  in  the  Thirteenth  Century 

2.  The  Teachers  of  Dante 

3.  The  Convivio  (Banquet)  of  Dante 

4.  Dante's  Guides  in  the  Spirit  World 

5.  The  Nibelungen  Lied 

C.   On  Modern  Subjects 

1.  Ontology 

2.  Intellectual  Piety 

3.  Idols  of  the  Theater 

4.  Animal  and  Man 

5.  Religion  and  Science 

6.  The  Ultimate  Creed 

7.  Divine  Love 

8.  The  Functions  of  a  Church 

9.  Acceptance 

10.  Detachment 

11.  Practical  Duties  following  from  a  Spiritual  View  of  Life 

12.  Inner  Moral  Life 

13.  Sin 

14.  Retribution  (text,  The  Laocoon  Group) 

15.  The  Immortality  of  the  Human  Soul 

16.  The  Meaning  of  Death 

17.  Sentimentality 

18.  The  Methods  of  Progress 

19.  Practical  Reforms 

20.  Some  False  Assumptions  of  Present  Reformers 

21.  The  Missing  Social  Link 

22.  Cooperation  vs.  Socialism  and  Anarchism 

23.  Meum  et  Teum 

24.  "Life,  Liberty,  and  the  Pursuit  of  Happiness" 

25.  The  Relation  of  Property  to  Liberty 

26.  The  Limits  of  the  State's  Competence 

27.  Education 

28.  Life  Education 

29.  The  Education  of  Girls 

30.  School  Exhibitions 


APPENDIX  B  229 

31.  Reading  with  a  View  to  Culture 

32.  New  Life 

33.  The  Fellowship  of  the  New  Life 

34.  The  Significance  of  Art 

35.  The  Nature  and  Causes  of  our  Social  Difficulties 

36.  Social  Remedies  in  the  Light  of  History 

III.    Detailed  Interpretation  of  Works  in  Philosophy 

and  Literature 

A.  Philosophy 

1.  Plato's  Republic 

2.  Plato's  Timaeus 

3.  Plato's  Phaedo 

4.  Aristode's  Metaphysics 

5.  Aristotle's  Physics 

6.  Aristotle's  Psychology  (De  Anima) 

7.  Aristode's  Ethics 

8.  Aristotle's  Politics 

9.  Aristotle's  Poetics 

10.  Plotinus's  Works  (Enneads) 

11.  Porphyry's  Sentences 

12.  Proclus's  Theological  Instruction 

13.  St.  Bonaventura's  Soul's  Progress  in  God 

14.  Rosmini's  Philosophical  System 

15.  Rosmini's  Origin  of  Ideas 

16.  Rosmini's  Logic 

17.  Rosmini's  Dialectic 

18.  Rosmini's  Psychology 

19.  Rosmini's  Anthropology 

20.  Rosmini's  Ethics  and  Politics 

21.  Rosmini's  Theosophy 

22.  T.  H.  Green's  Prolegomena  to  Ethics 

B.  Literature 

1.  /Eschylus's  Oresteia 

2.  yEschylus's  Prometheus 

3.  Sophocles's  CEdipus  Tyrannus 

4.  Sophocles's  Antigone 

5.  Dante's  Divine  Comedy 

6.  Goethe's  Faust 

7.  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam 


APPENDIX  C 

Among  Mr.  Davidson's  published  books  there  are  two  which  have 
unusual  interest  for  the  general  reader.  They  are  his  Prolegomena 
to  Tennyson's  "  In  Memoriam,"  and  The  Parthenon  Frieze. 

Davidson  considered  In  Memoriam  to  be  not  only  the  greatest 
English  poem  of  the  nineteenth  century,  but  "one  of  the  great 
world  poems,  worthy  to  be  placed  in  the  same  list  with  the  Oresteia, 
the  Divina  Commedia,  and  Faust'''  He  wished  to  show  that  In 
Memoriam  lay  "  in  the  chief  current  of  the  world's  thought "  ;  that 
it  was  "  the  record  of  the  shattering  and  the  rebuilding  of  the  moral 
world  in  a  man's  soul." 

The  Prolegomena,  which  was  published  in  Boston  in  1889,  is  con- 
sidered by  some  readers  to  be  Davidson's  best  book.  It  is  certainly 
a  noteworthy  one,  and  a  better  introduction  to  the  world's  greatest 
elegy  than  anything  else  that  has  been  written  upon  it.  In  his  opin- 
ion the  philosophical  meaning  of  the  poem  is  summed  up  in  the 
prologue,  and  he  gives  us  his  interpretation  with  scholarly  skill  and 
sympathetic  appreciation.  The  fundamental  thought  of  the  great 
lyric  is  this,  —  that  "  man's  true  happiness  consists  in  the  perfect 
conformity  of  his  will  to  the  divine  will ;  and  this  conformity  is 
attained  through  love,  first  of  man  and  then  of  God." 

The  Parthenon  Frieze,  published  with  other  essays  in  London  in 
1882,  and  brought  out  in  Boston  and  New  York  in  1886,  was  written 
to  combat  the  prevailing  opinions  regarding  the  meaning  of  this 
monumental  work.  The  essay  is  a  compact  [and  closely  built  argu- 
ment in  which  the  author  gives  his  reasons  for  regarding  the  exist- 
ing explanations  as  worthless.  Modern  archaeologists  hold  the  sub- 
ject to  be  the  Panathenaic  procession,  or  some  ceremony  connected 
with  it.  Davidson  asserts  that  it  may  properly  be  called  the  Dream 
of  Pericles,  —  a  vision  of  social  union  and  harmony,  never  realized, 
but  having  in  it  a  great,  genial,  humane  purpose,  which,  had  it  been 
fulfilled,  might  have  changed  the  whole  history  of  the  world,  and 
hastened  the  march  of  civilization  by  two  thousand  years. 


230 


APPENDIX  D 

After  writing  his  book  on  Rosmini  Davidson  remained  at  Domo- 
dossola  for  a  year,  and  during  this  time  he  contributed  several  short, 
characteristic  articles  to  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  and  other  papers. 
One  of  these  sketches,  descriptive  of  the  little  town  in  which  he 
made  his  home,  is  reprinted  here  as  having  more  than  a  literary 
interest. 

A  SOLITUDE  IN  THE  ITALIAN  ALPS1 

The  stage  that  runs  between  the  brooding  loveliness  of  Lago 
Maggiore  and  the  soaring  ruggedness  of  the  Simplon  Pass  stops 
about  halfway  at  Domodossola,  whose  very  situation  between  more 
renowned  scenes  has  caused  it  to  be  treated  with  undeserved  neglect. 
It  is  hardly  noticed  in  the  guidebooks,  and  though  many  travellers 
pass  the  night  at  it,  they  are  usually  so  eager  to  reach  what  lies 
beyond  that  they  pay  no  heed  to  the  little  town  or  its  surroundings, 
and  go  away  with  only  a  vague  consciousness  of  ever  having  been 
there.  Nevertheless,  the  lover  of  nature,  whose  sense  of  beauty  is 
not  subject  to  the  authority  of  guidebooks,  will  not  grudge  having 
spent  a  week  or  even  a  month  among  these  surroundings. 

Domodossola,  a  neat  town  of  about  three  thousand  inhabitants, 
stands  on  the  Toce,  in  the  bottom  of  a  little  valley  completely  sur- 
rounded by  mountains,  which  are  snow-capped  the  greater  part  of 
the  year.  It  occupies,  so  to  speak,  the  point  of  divergence  of  seven 
other  valleys  that  branch  off  in  different  directions  from  the  valley 
of  Ossola  —  Val  Anzasca,  leading  to  Monte  Rosa ;  Val  Antrona ; 
Valle  di  Bagnanco,  with  its  mineral  springs  ;  Val  Divedro,  through 
which  the  Simplon  road  passes ;  Val  Antigorio,  continued  in  Val 
Formazza,  in  which  is  the  Frua,  one  of  the  finest  waterfalls  in 
Europe ;  Valle  dell'  Inferno,  not  unworthy  of  its  name ;  and  Val 
Vigezzo,  with  its  handsome  churches  and  residences.  Though  all 
the  surroundings  of  Domodossola  offer  that  combination  of  Alpine 
sublimity  and  Italian  beauty  which  at  once  suggests  and  imparts 
energy  and  rest,  the  mountains  on   the  west  side  are  especially 

1  From  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  of  May  26,  1882. 
231 


232  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

calculated  to  attract  and  hold  the  lover  of  nature.  These  mountains 
rise  to  the  height  of  four  or  five  thousand  feet,  and  are  covered  with 
vegetation  to  the  very  summit.  Their  steep  sides  are  furrowed  by 
innumerable  ravines  threaded  by  limpid  torrents,  whose  courses  form 
each  a  series  of  little  pictures  enough  to  fill  a  large  gallery.  Here 
nature  and  art  seem  to  have  combined  to  do  their  best.  While  the 
ravines  still  rejoice  in  their  natural  bosky  savageness,  every  available 
spot  of  ground  between  them,  to  the  height  of  two  thousand  feet, 
is  under  cultivation,  while  every  little  platform  is  occupied  either 
by  a  picturesque  village  or  an  equally  picturesque  farmhouse.  Above 
the  line  of  cultivation  are  pine  woods,  whose  still,  somber  hue, 
broken  here  and  there  by  gayer  tints,  forms  an  imposing  contrast  to 
the  bright  green  of  the  meadows  below. 

For  the  artist,  to  whom  Nature  is  the  all-fruitful,  all-beautiful 
Venus,  hominum  divumque  voluptas,  or  for  the  student,  who  finds 
that  the  voice  of  intelligence  sounds  clearest  through  the  harmony 
of  the  emotions,  these  mountains  are  almost  an  earthly  paradise. 
One  such  student  has  fixed  his  summer  abode  among  them  in  a 
cottage  situated  about  five  hundred  feet  above  the  town,  on  a  steep 
incline  just  below  the  little  plateau  occupied  by  the  chief  "fraction" 
of  the  village  of  Vagna.  The  cottage,  whose  windows  look  east  and 
south,  stands  in  the  middle  of  an  artificial  terrace  some  sixty  yards 
long  by  fifteen  broad.  This  terrace  is  completely  surrounded  by  a 
wall,  high  enough  on  the  upper  side  to  exclude  intruders,  and  low 
enough  on  the  downward  side  to  leave  unimpeded  the  view  of  the 
whole  valley.  At  either  end  of  the  house  is  a  little  garden  with 
vine-shaded  walks,  and  arbors  covered  with  creepers  and  fitted  up 
with  seats  and  tables  of  stone.  The  house  is  three  stories  high 
exclusive  of  the  cellars,  which  are  under  the  terrace.  The  first  floor 
opens  upon  the  terrace,  which  is  here  completely  covered  by  a  single 
vine,  rivalling  in  extent  the  famous  one  at  Hampton  Court.  All 
the  eastern  windows  on  the  second  floor  are  doors,  and  open  upon 
a  long  veranda,  while  those  on  the  third  floor  open  upon  small 
balconies. 

When  the  student  (or,  as  the  natives  call  him,  the  hermit)  wakes 
in  the  morning  he  is  greeted  by  the  sun  rising  over  the  snow-clad 
peaks  of  the  eastward  mountains.  When  he  throws  open  his  blinds 
and  walks  out  upon  the  veranda  the  whole  valley,  with  its  mountains, 


APPENDIX  D  233 

meadows,  and  streams,  its  town,  and  its  innumerable  white  villages 
lies  stretched  out  before  him  ;  and  he  can  even  see  the  whole  length 
of  the  high  valley  of  Vigezzo,  close  by  the  Gridone,  which  stands  out 
like  a  huge  pyramid  against  the  sky.  While  his  eye  is  occupied  with 
these  things,  his  ear  is  greeted  by  the  rushing  of  streams  near  and 
distant,  and  by  the  songs  of  birds  already  busy  with  their  love  mak- 
ing. Venus  seems  to  be  the  one  divinity  of  all  the  feathered  bipeds, 
and  especially  of  the  ringdoves,  whose  whole  life  seems  one  act  of 
worship.  Here  the  ringdoves  are  plentiful,  and  so  tame  that  it  is 
difficult  to  keep  them  from  perching  upon  one's  head  and  shoulders. 
Their  cooing  seems  the  voice  of  Peace  herself. 

Having  dressed  and  breakfasted,  the  hermit  starts  for  his  morning 
walk.  But  first  he  takes  a  look  at  his  garden,  saluting  the  newborn 
flowers  with  a  welcome,  to  which  they  respond  with  dewy  perfume. 
As  he  passes  the  church  he  finds  that  mass  has  already  begun.  All 
the  peasantry  of  the  village  are  at  their  morning  prayers  ;  not  one  is 
to  be  met  outside.  He  stops  for  a  moment  to  consider  which  way 
he  shall  turn,  for  the  mountain  paths  are  so  numerous  and  all  so 
beautiful  that  the  choice  is  difficult.  Having  decided  he  begins  to 
ascend,  looking  back  every  few  minutes  to  enjoy  a  new  view  of  the 
valley  below.  His  way  leads  him  now  under  vine  trellises,  now 
along  terrace  walls  covered  with  moss,  ferns,  and  ivy;  now  past 
waterfalls,  tumbling  into  deep,  sandy  pools,  whose  rocky  sides  are 
tapestried  with  dripping  ferns  ;  now  over  rustic  bridges  of  wood  or 
stone  spanning  rapid  torrents  ;  now  along  deep  ravines  whose  sides 
seem  to  stretch  to  heaven,  now  under  groves  of  chestnut,  now  by 
the  side  of  overhanging  rocks,  and  now  past  chalets  so  quiet  and 
picturesque  that  he  feels  no  desire  to  go  farther.  Here  he  rests  on 
a  stone  seat  under  the  kindly  shade  of  vine  or  chestnut  and  enjoys 
the  full  prospect  of  the  now  waking  valley.  Yonder  on  the  extreme 
left  is  the  Simplon  diligence  emerging  with  its  load  of  foreign  tour- 
ists from  Val  Divedro  ;  in  front  is  a  group  of  workmen  entering  Val 
Vigezzo,  whose  villages  and  churches  now  stand  out  clear  and  white  ; 
the  paths  of  the  valley  are  threaded  by  men  and  cattle  that  look  no 
larger  than  ants;  while  on  the  left  the  Rosminian  novitiate,  with 
its  white  walls  and  open  courts,  its  ancient  donjon  keep  and  gloomy 
battlements  half  hidden  in  garden  trees,  carries  his  thoughts  back  to 
other  days,  made  significant  by  other  ideals.    Having  rested,  the 


234  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

hermit  continues  his  walk.  He  is  now  beyond  the  line  of  cultivation, 
and  his  path  leads  him  through  thickets  and  across  natural  meadows 
that  with  their  white  cottages  and  shrines  spring  suddenly  up  before 
him  like  a  vision  of  fairyland.  As  he  approaches  these  cottages, 
rustic  voices  of  men,  women,  and  children  salute  him  with  hearty 
Buon  di  /  and  he  is  invited  to  a  glass  of  fresh  milk  and  a  piece  of 
brown  bread.  As  he  partakes  of  these  he  talks  with  these  simple 
people  about  their  cattle  and  their  labor,  the  pleasures  of  Alpine 
life,  and  the  freshness  of  Alpine  air.  Before  he  leaves  he  is  invited 
to  come  and  spend  a  week  at  the  cottages  and  share  their  mountain 
hospitality.  He  has  now  gone  far  enough;  so  bidding  the  cattle- 
tenders  good-bye,  with  a  promise  to  come  again,  he  begins  his 
descent  by  a  different  path  from  that  by  which  he  ascended.  As  he 
dives  into  the  first  wooded  ravine  he  hears  the  wild,  free  song  of 
the  mountaineers  flung  to  the  broad  sky  from  lungs  that  seem  as 
inexhaustible  as  those  of  nightingales.  He  descends  rapidly,  but 
before  returning  to  begin  his  studies  for  the  day  he  refreshes  himself 
with  a  shower  bath,  under  a  cascade  that  hides  itself  in  a  rocky  laby- 
rinth never  trodden  by  profane  footsteps.  After  thus  paying  his 
devotions  to  Nature  and  partaking  of  her  sacrament  he  feels  himself 
in  that  happy  frame  of  mind  that  makes  all  mental  labor  easy.  His 
day  is  passed  at  his  study  table,  in  view  of  the  ever-changing  beauties 
of  valley  and  mountain.  His  only  companions  are  the  ringdoves, 
that  use  his  study  as  freely  as  he  does,  and  the  beautiful  cardellini, 
which  seem  never  to  weary  of  motion  or  song.  When  the  sun  is 
disappearing  over  the  western  mountains,  and  the  Ave  Maria  is 
sounding  from  the  bells  of  villages  near  and  far,  he  takes  his  evening 
walk,  enjoying  for  another  hour  the  most  intimate  communion  with 
Nature,  a  communion  which  satisfies  every  aspiration  after  the 
divine.  He  returns  to  a  simple  meal,  after  which  he  continues  his 
studies  for  an  hour  or  two,  interrupting  them  from  time  to  time  in 
order  to  go  out  on  the  veranda  and  enjoy  the  sight  of  the  mountains 
and  valley  steeped  in  meditative  gloom  or  bathed  with  dreamy 
moonshine.    So  passes  his  day  in  the  very  bosom  of  Nature. 


APPENDIX  E 

BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  THOMAS  DAVIDSON'S  WORKS 

I.  Books 

A  History  of  Education.  i2mo,  292  pages.  New  York,  1900.  (Revised 
in  The  Dial  [September  16,  1900],  XXIX,  181  ;  and  in  The  Educa- 
tional Review,  XX,  522.) 

Aristotle  and  Ancient  Educational  Ideals  (Great  Educators'  Series). 
121110,  250  pages.    New  York,  1892. 

Education  of  the  Greek  People,  and  its  Influence  on  Civilization 
(International  Educational  Series).  i2mo,  229  pages.  New 
York,  1894. 

The  Parthenon  Frieze  and  Other  Essays.  London,  1882;  Boston  and 
New  York,  1886. 

Prolegomena  to  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam,  with  Index  to  the  Poem. 
Boston,  1889. 

Rosmini's  Anthropology  (translation). 

Rosmini's  Psychology  (translation). 

Rousseau,  and  Education  according  to  Nature  (Great  Educators' 
Series,  Charles  Scribner's  Sons).    259  pages.     New  York,  1898. 

Scartazzini's  Handbook  to  Dante,  with  Notes  and  Additions.    Boston, 

1887. 
The  Philosophical  System  of  Antonio  Rosmini-Serbati,  with  a  Sketch 
of  Rosmini's  Life,  Bibliography,   Introduction,  and  Notes.    Lon- 
don, 1882 

II.  Articles  in  the  Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy 

Schelling's  Introduction  to  Idealism  (translation)  I,  159. 
Schelling's  Introduction  to  the  Philosophy  of  Nature  (translation)  I. 
Rosenkranz  on  Difference  of  Reader  from  Hegel  (translation),  II,  55. 
Leibnitz  on  the  Nature  of  the  Soul  (translation),  II,  62. 
Rosenkranz  on  Goethe's  Social  Romances  (translation),  II,  120,  215. 
Winckelmann's   Remarks  on  the  Torso  of  Hercules  (translation),  II, 

187. 
Sentences  of  Porphyry  the  Philosopher  (translation),  III,  46. 
Leibnitz  on  Platonic  Enthusiasm  (translation),  III,  68. 
Fragments  of  Parmenides,  IV,  1. 

235 


236  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

Rosenkranz  on  Goethe's  Wilhelm  Meister  (translation),  IV,  145. 
Introduction  to   Hegel's  Encyclopaedia  by  Rosenkranz  (translation), 

V,  234. 
Trendelenburg  on  Hegel's  System  (translation),  V,  349. 
Notice  of  Morris's  translation  of  Uberweg,  VI,  95. 
Trendelenburg  on  Hegel's  System  (translation),  VI,  82,  163,  360. 
Conditions  of  Immortality  according  to  Aristotle,  VIII,  143. 
Letter  about  A.  Vera's  Review  of  Strauss's  Ancient  and  New  Faith, 

VIII,  281. 
Grammar  of  Dionysius  Thrax  (translation),  VIII,  326. 
Address  of  Professor  Tyndall,  VIII,  361. 
Translation  of  Rosenkranz's  Summary  of  Logic,  IX,  98. 
The  Niobe  Group,  IX,  142. 

Reply  to  A.  Vera's  Stricture's  on  his  Critique,  IX,  434. 
Notice  of  Anderson's  Norse  Mythology,  X,  216. 
Letter  on  the  Philosophy  of  Thomas  Aquinas,  XIV,  87. 
Bonaventura's  The  Soul's  Progress  in  God  (translation)  (July,  1887), 

XXI. 
Aristotle's   Metaphysics.    A  translation  of  the  eleventh  book.    XXII, 

No.  3,  225-253. 
Dionysius  Areopagita,  Mystic  Theology  (translation)  (December),  XXII, 

395- 

III.  Articles  in  the  Western 

Lincoln  Monument  at  Springfield  (1875),  I>  223- 
Funeral  Hymn  (April,  1872),  p.  41. 
Greek  Literature  (May,  1872),  p.  61. 

Articles  in  Western  Educational  Review 

S elf-Government  in  the  Schoolroom  (February,  1870),  I,  53. 
Religious  Instruction  in  Public  Schools  (March,  1870),  I,  81. 
Rimini  (translation  from  Heine)  (May,  1870),  I,  127. 
Rimini  (continuation)  (September,  1870),  I,  203. 

(1)  The  Minstrel's  Curse  (translation  from  Uhland)  (November,  1870), 

I,  252. 

(2)  The  Origin  of  Language  (November,  1870),  I,  256. 

Epitaph  from  a  Roman  Tombstone  (translation)  (October,  1870),  I,  240. 

Lyric  Poetry  (May,  1871),  II,  159. 

Pedagogical  Bibliography  (October,  1 871),  II,  139. 

The  Tragic  (November,  187 1),  II,  321. 


APPENDIX  E  237 

IV.  Miscellaneous 

American  Democracy.  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  October,  1899. 
The  Brothers  of  Sincerity.  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  July,  1898. 
The    Ethics  of  an  Eternal  Being.    International  Journal  of  Ethics, 

April,  1893. 
Conditions,  Divisions,  and  Methods  of  Complete  Education  (a  lecture). 

i6mo.    Orange,  N.J.,  1887. 
Education  as  World  Building.    Educational  Review  (November,  1900), 

XX,  325-345- 

Education:   Greek  at  Harvard  College.    Atlantic  Monthly,  XXXIX, 

123-128,  386-388. 
Aristocracy  and  Humanity.     The  Forum  (October,  1887),  IV,  No.  2. 
Review  of   Koch's  Hist.  Gram.  Englisch.    Round  Table  (New  York 

newspaper),  November  21,  1868,  Sect.  200. 
Ideal  Training  of  the  American  Girl.     The  Forum  (June,  1898),  XXV, 

471-480. 
Manual  Training  in  Public  Schools.     The  Forum  (April,  1887),  III, 

111-121. 
On  the  Origin  of  Language  (translation). 
Pedagogical  Bibliography  :  Its  Possessions  and  Wants. 
National  Educational  Association  (1871),  pp.  51-66. 
Place  of  Art  in  Education.  Journal  of  Social  Science  (September,  1886), 

No.  21,  159-187. 
Giordano   Bruno,    Philosopher  and    Martyr  (written    in    collaboration 

with  D.  G.  Brinton).    Philadelphia,  1890. 
The  Kingdom  of  Heaven.    Christian  Union  (January  15,  1891),  XLIII, 

No.  3. 
Dante's  Place  in  History.     The  Parthenon  (April  28,  1892),  I,  No.  24. 
The    Paradise   of    Dante.      Lecture    before    Chicago    Dante    School, 

April  20,  1892.    (Reprinted  from  The  Parthenon.) 
The  Origins  of  Modern  Thought  (synopsis  of  twenty  lectures). 
Contemporary    Philosophy    in    Italy.     The  Nation  (August   5,    1880), 

No.  788. 
"Ad  Tres  Familiares"  (Latin  translation  of  Longfellow's  poem,  "Three 

Friends  of  Mine"),  1876. 
Intellectual  Piety.    New  York,  Fowler  &  Wells  Company,  1896. 
The  Present  Condition  of  Greece.    International  Review  (June,  1879), 

VI,  No.  6. 
Giordano   Bruno  (compiled  from  the  Freethinker's  Magazine  for  Sep- 
tember (E.H.),  p.  289. 


238  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

When  the  Higher  Criticism  has  done  its  Work.   International  Journal 

of  Ethics  (July,  1897),  VII,  No.  4. 
The   Democratization   of    England.     The  Forum  (June,    1896),  XXI, 

No.  4. 
Victorian  Greater  Britain  and  its  Future.     The  Forum  (July,   1897), 

XXIII,  No.  5. 
The   Supremacy  of  Russia.     The  Forum  (September,   1897),  XXIV, 

No.  1. 
Evolution  of  Sculpture.    New  York,  1891. 
Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow.    Boston,  1882. 
Ideal  Training  of  an  American  Boy.     The  Forum  (July,  1894),  XVII, 

57i. 

Review  of  Kolb's  History  of  Human  Civilization.  Round  Table  (Decem- 
ber 19,  1868),  Sect.  204. 

Review  of  Max  Miiller's  "Chips."  Round  Table  (May  8,  1869), 
Sect.  224. 

Discussions  with  Richard  Grant  White.  Round  Table  (March  13, 
1889),  Sect.  216;  (February  27,  1869),  Sect.  214;  (April  17, 
1869),  Sect.  247. 

CATALOGUE    OF    MANUSCRIPTS    LEFT    BY    THOMAS 

DAVIDSON 

1.  The  Revival  of  Thought  in  Europe  in  the  Thirteenth  Century  :  Aris- 

totle in  the  Schools. 

2.  Bonaventura. 

3.  Introduction  (to  a  set  of  lectures  on  great  schoolmen). 

4.  Thomas  Aquinas. 

5.  Aristotle's  Debt  to  Plato. 

6.  Dionysius  Areopagita. 

7.  Philo  Judaeus. 

8.  Plotinus,  Porphyry,  Proclus,  Neo-Platonism. 

9.  Dante. 

10.  Dante's  Ideology  and  Logic. 

11.  Dante  (fragment). 

12.  The  Convivio. 

13.  Greek  Education  up  to  Aristotle. 

14.  The  Growth  of  Art  Ideas  among  the  Greeks. 

15.  Ontology. 

16.  Consciousness  of  the  Divine  Presence. 

17.  Savonarola. 

18.  Is  the  Homeric  Cycle  of  Legends  Greek? 


APPENDIX  E 


239 


ig.  The  Present  State  of  Thought. 

20.  Spiritual  Thought. 

21.  Una  Religione  per  l'ltalia. 

22.  In  Memoriam. 

23-27.  Themistocles  in  Exile :  A  Modern  Tragedy,  Acts  I-V. 

28-36.  The  Bearing  of  Ancient  Thought  upon  Modern  Social  Prob- 
lems (ten  lectures). 

37-43.  Seven  Lectures  (on  the  history  of  Hebrew  prophetism  and 
Greek  philosophy). 

44.  The  Affiliation  of  the  Sciences. 

45.  School  Exhibitions. 

46.  The  Education  of  Girls. 

47.  Life  Education. 

48.  Education  of  the  Young :  Use  of  Music. 

49.  Self-Reliance. 

50.  Practical  Reform. 

51.  Greek  Democracies. 

52.  Hegel  and  Rosmini. 

53.  Meum  and  Tuum. 

54.  Are  there  Synthetic  Judgments  a  priori? 

55.  Aristotle's  Problem. 

56.  Individuality. 

57.  The  Ultimate  Creed. 

58.  Sentimentality. 

59.  Acceptance. 

60.  Detachment. 

61.  The  Missing  Social  Link. 

62.  Heraclitus  (translation  of  the  fragments). 

63.  Green's  Theory  of  Cognition,  and  its  Place  in  the  History  of 

Thought. 

64.  Dante's  Convivio  (translation  with  notes). 

65.  Letters  to  Class  on  East  Side  (summer,  1899). 

66.  The  Brothers  of  Sincerity. 

67.  Social  Remedies  in  the  Light  of  History. 

68.  The  Nature  and  Cause  of  our  Social  Difficulties. 

69.  Idols  of  the  Theater. 

70.  Some  False  Assumptions  of  Present  Reformers. 

71.  The  Future  of  Classical  Study. 

72.  "  Ad  Tres  Familiares." 

73.  Protection  and  Free  Trade. 

74.  Words,  Thoughts,  and  Things. 

75.  The  Methods  of  Progress. 


240  THOMAS  DAVIDSON 

76.  Art  and  Fact  (off-print  from  the  Western). 

77.  The  Philosophy  of  Words  (review  of  Garlanda). 

78.  Animal  and  Man. 

79.  Social  and  Economic  Equality. 

80-83.  Athens,  Ancient  and  Modern  (four  lectures). 
84-89.  Modern  Greece  (six  lectures). 

90.  Greek  Sculpture  (notes  for  six  stereopticon  lectures). 
91-97.  Philology  (seven  lectures). 
98-101.  The  History  and  Grammar  of  the  English  Language  (four 
lectures). 

102.  Ontology. 

103.  Olympia. 

104.  Shakespeare's  World  and  its  Limitations. 

105.  Divine  Love. 

106.  The  Immortality  of  the  Human  Soul. 

107.  Education. 

108.  Free  Education. 

109.  Transfiguration. 

no.  The  Practical  Duties  following  upon   the  Spiritual  View  of 

Life, 
in.  Reading  with  a  View  to  Culture  and  Insight. 

112.  On  the  Nibelungenlied  (first  page  missing). 

113.  The  Educational  Problem. 

114.  The   Educational   Problems  which  the   Nineteenth  Century 

hands  over  to  the  Twentieth. 
1 1 5-1 16.  The    Problems    set    by    the    Nineteenth    Century    to    the 
Twentieth. 

(1)  The  Philosophic  and  Religious  Problems. 

(2)  The  Economic  Question. 

117.  Religion  and  Science. 

118.  The  Significance  of  Art. 

119.  New  Life. 

120.  The  Life  of  the  Spirit. 

121.  Inner  Moral  Life. 

122.  The  Function  of  a  Church. 

123.  Faith  as  a  Faculty  of  the  Human  Mind. 
124-128.  Five  Lectures  on  great  Greek  Moralists: 

(1)  Antecedents  of  Greek  Ethics. 

(2)  Socrates  and  Intuitional  Ethics. 

(3)  Plato  and  Ideal  Ethics 

(4)  Aristotle  and  Institutional  Ethics. 

(5)  Comparison  and  Conclusion. 


APPENDIX  E  241 

129.  The  Irony  of  Plato. 
130-13 1.  Two  Lectures  on  Faust  (old  series). 

132.  Aristotle  on  Tragedy. 

133.  Aristotle's  Poetics. 

134.  Prometheus. 

135.  The  Oresteia :  Agamemnon. 

136.  Choephori  and  the  Two  Electras. 

137.  Retribution  (the  Laocobn  group). 

138.  The  Other  World  in  Homer. 

139.  Art  in  Homer. 

140.  Women  in  Greece. 

141.  Rosmini's  Philosophy. 

142.  Savonarola. 

143.  Dante's  Place  in  History. 

144.  Love  as  God's  Method  of  Action  (according  to  the  Divine 

Comedy). 

145.  Virgil  and  Beatrice  as  Guides. 

146.  Ibn  Gebirol  and  the  Cabbalah. 

147.  What  is  Death  ? 

148.  The  Fellowship  of  the  New  Life. 

149.  The  New  Life  and  the  Old. 

150.  Life. 

151.  Liberty. 

152.  The  Pursuit  of  Happiness. 

153.  The  Educational  Ideal :  A  Criticism  of  Modern  Institutions 

of  Learning. 

154.  "  Sacred  Diseases." 

155.  Scotch  Ballads  (badly  mutilated). 

156-161.  Goethe's  Faust  (latest  series;    Lecture   III,  Sect.    159,  not 
found). 

162.  Four  Great  Religious  Poems. 

163.  Mediaeval  Philosophy  :   Introduction  ;  notes  and  fragments. 

164.  Letters  to  East-Side  Class. 

165.  Diaries,  and  loose  leaves  from  diaries,  kept  by  Mr.  David- 

son, 1861,  etc. 


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